Soon, soon didst thou pay for that error in woe,
Thy life to the Butler, thy crown to the foe,
Thy castles dismantled, and strewn on the sod,
And the homes of the weak, and the abbeys of God!
No more in thy halls is the wayfarer fed,
Nor the rich mead sent round, nor the soft heather spread,
Nor the "clairsech's" sweet notes, now in mirth, now in sorrow,
All, all have gone by, but the name of MacCaura!

MacCaura, the pride of thy house is gone by,
But its name cannot fade, and its fame cannot die,
Though the Arigideen, with its silver waves, shine
Around no green forests or castles of thine--
Though the shrines that you founded no incense doth hallow,
Nor hymns float in peace down the echoing Allo,
One treasure thou keepest, one hope for the morrow--
True hearts yet beat of the clan of MacCaura!


21. MacCarthaig, or MacCarthy.

22. The eldest son of Milesius, King of Spain, in the legendary history
of Ireland.

23. The Round Towers.

24. The Tuatha Dedannans, so called, says Keating, from their skill in
necromancy, for which some were so famous as to be called gods.