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Poem by Thomas D'Arcy McGee


King Malachy and the Poet MCoisi


KING MALACHY, shorn of crown and renown,
With nothing left but his mensal board,
Hung in the troopless hall his sword,
Cared his own horse in the stable,
And daily sank deeper in joys of the table;
For Brian the King, by force and art,
By might of brain and hope of heart,
Conquered the sceptre and won the crown,
Leaving to Malachy little renown.

In Taras hall was room to spare,
For few were the chiefs and courtiers there;
Of all who stood well in the monarchs graces,
But three retained their ancient places,
And two of the three had followed Brian,
Had the conqueror thought them worth his buyin;
The third, the poet MCoisi, alone
Stood true to the empty, discrowned throne.

And many a tale the poet told
Of Taras splendor in days of old,
Of Erins wonderful builders three,
Of Troylane, the builder of Rath-na-ree,
And Unadh, who built the banquet-hall,
And the Gobhan Saer, the master of all;
Of the Miller of Nith, and the Miller of Fore,
And many a hundred marvels more;
Of the Well of Galloon that, like sudden sorrow,
Turns the hair to gray to-morrow;
Of the Well of Slieve-bloom, which, who profanes
On the land around, draws down plagues and rains;
Of the human wolves that howl and prey
Through Ossorys Woods from dark till day;
Of speaking babes and potent boys,
And the wonderful man of Clonmacnoise,
Who lived seven years without a head,
And the edifying life he led;
Of ships and armies seen in the air,
And the wonders wrought by St. Patricks prayer.



Thomas D'Arcy McGee


Thomas D'Arcy McGee's other poems:
  1. Feagh MHugh
  2. The Gobhan Saer
  3. St. Cormac the Navigator
  4. The River Boyne
  5. The Four Masters


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