The sun of Ivera
No longer shines brightly,
The voice of her music
No longer is sprightly;
No more to her maidens
The light dance is dear,
Since the death of our darling
Scully! thou false one
You basely betrayed him;
In his strong hour of need
When thy right hand should aid him;
He fed thee—he clad thee—
You had all could delight thee:
You left him, you sold him
May heaven requite thee!
Scully! May all kinds
Of evil attend thee!
On thy dark road of life
May no kind one befriend thee!
May fevers long burn thee
And agues long freeze thee!
May the strong hand of God
In his red anger seize thee!
Had he died calmly
I would not deplore him;
Or if the wild strife
Of the sea-war closed o’er him:
But with ropes round his white limbs
Through Ocean to trail him,
Like a fish after slaughter
’Tis therefore I wail him.
Long may the curse
Of his people pursue them;
Scully that sold him
And soldier that slew him!
One glimpse of Heaven’s light
May they see never!
May the hearthstone of Hell
Be their best bed forever!
In the hole where the vile hands
Of soldiers had laid thee,
Unhonored, unshrouded,
And headless they laid thee,
No eye to rain o’er thee,
No dirge to lament thee,
No friend to deplore thee!
Dear head of my darling
How gory and pale
These aged eyes see thee,
High spiked on their jail!
That cheek in the summer sun
Ne’er shall grow warm;
Nor that eye e’er catch light
From the flash of the storm!
A curse, blessed ocean,
Is on thy green water
From the Haven of Cork
To Ivera of Slaughter:
Since the billows were dyed
With the red wounds of fear
Of Muirtach Og
Our O’Sullivan Beare!
Jeremiah Joseph Callanan [James Joseph Callanan] (1795 – 1829) Ireland
Source: Anthology of Irish verse, ed. with an introduction by Padraic Colum, Boni and Liveright, 1922.
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