Kincora

Oh, never again will Princes appear,

To rival the Dalcassians of the Cleaving Swords!

I can never dream of meeting afar or anear,

In the east or the west, such heroes and lords!

Never, O Kincora!

Oh, dear are the images my memory calls up

Of Brian Boru!—how he never would miss

To give me at the banquet the first bright cup!

Ah! why did he heap on me honor like this?

Why, O Kincora?

I am MacLiag, and my home is on the Lake;

Thither often, to that palace whose beauty is fled,

Came Brian to ask me, and I went for his sake.

Oh, my grief! that I should live, and Brian be dead

Dead, O Kincora!