The Lake of Killarney

In Erin's verdant, ocean isle,
A shining lake is seen,
Where many an islet peers the while
To stud the lake with green.

And these are crowned with tree and flower,
And vine, or ruins gray,
That show where human art and power
Have been, and past away.

They're edged with grass, or fringing brake,
Or moss, or beetling cliff;
And, round between them, on the lake
There dances many a skiff.

The boatman's hardy hand propels
His boat with varying oar,
While stories wild and strange he tells,
About the things of yore.

And, if you touch that hand with gold
Or silver, you shall find,
A smoother tale was never told,
Than he will soon unwind.

But then no sign of secret doubt,
About what may be said,
From lip or eye must venture out,
As this would snap the thread.

For, though he may in truth believe
The things he tells to you,
Or not, 't is fit that you receive
Each syllable as true.

In sooth, the honest boatman seems
A man sincere, and acts
Like one, who, often telling dreams,
Refines them into facts.

He'll take you in his boat and row
Till fairly from the shore;
Then fast his nimble tongue will go,
And slow the lazy oar.

And there, in haste to let you know
How much is known to him,
He'll tell you what is hid below
The water that you skim.

For, how Killarney's lake arose,
His sober lips protest,
That, if a son of Erin knows,
Himself must know the best.

And having paid his holy priest
For past and future sins,
And lived a saint through lent and feast,
The tale he thus begins:

'You see that in this spacious cave
There's now a mighty flood;
But once, as you've a soul to save,
'T was full of flesh and blood!

'And now I row my trusty boat
O'er heaps of human bones,
That, by the waters where we float,
Are hardened into stones!

'For, here an ancient city shone
In splendor, wealth, and pride;
And that in power it stood alone,
Can be by none denied.

''T was peopled by a noble clan
Of brave and warlike men;
If ever Erin had a man
Of courage, it was then.

''T was governed by a mighty chief,
The great O'Donaghue;
And just to give him in the brief,
A mighty tyrant, too!

'He was a man of giant size,
Of odd, but rich attire,
With haughty bearing, and his eyes,—
They flashed like living fire.

'He often led his men to fight,
And led them safely back;
But left the foes, that lived in flight,
With blood upon their track.

'For when they saw his hordes advance,
And knew him in the van,
His very look was like a lance,
To enter every man.

'His eye was worth a thousand shafts,
A thousand arms, his one!
His will was like the wing that wafts
The eagle to the sun!

'And such the great O'Donaghue;
And such the race of men,
Whose like, if e'er creation knew,
'T will never know again!

'And all that mortals ever need
This noble clan possessed;
For they had all to clothe and feed,
And give the body rest.

'But, still they lacked one thing, and this,
The burden of their song,
Was what no living thing can miss,
And live to miss it long.

'And "water! water!" they would sing,,
And some for water call.
They'd neither well, nor brook, nor spring,
Within their city wall.

'At length, without, the streams were dry
That brightened vale and hill,
And then, from thirsty mouths, the cry
Was "water! water!" still.

'There came a great magician there,
A man of power and skill,
Who had the gift to answer prayer,
And do the suppliant's will.

'To him in crowds the people came,
As pilgrims to a shrine:
Approaching in St. Patrick's name,
The man of gifts divine.

'And water, water, was the thing
For which they humbly bowed,
Entreating him the boon to bring
From either earth or cloud.

'But still he answered not their call;
For in his searching sight,
There was not one among them all
Who asked that boon aright.

'At length a little soft-eyed maid,
With looks and voice to melt
A rock to water, came and prayed,
And asking water, knelt.

'A ring the great magician wore,
Of gems so clear and bright,
They looked like drops of dew before
The rays of morning light.

'Then, in the earth, from off his hand,
He hid the sparkling ring,
When, straightway from the burning sand
Came forth a cooling spring!

'And every one with parching lip,
Who ran to fill his cup,
Perceived that, fast as all could dip,
The water bubbled up.

'The great magician said, the spring
Must every night with care,
Be covered close, or it would bring
An evil none could bear.

'And thus to let the spring be hid,
He gave a shining gift—
A large and massive silver lid,
That none alone could lift.

'Upon its surface smooth and bright,
Were strange devices traced;
And o'er the water every night,
With care 't was closely placed.

'At morning it was set aside
To let the spring appear,
And all the city was supplied
With water fresh and clear.

'At length, the proud O'Donaghue
Began to jeer and scoff,
Because the cover must go through
This putting on and off.

'"I'll to my dwelling bid them take
The shining lid," said he,
"And turn it upside down, to make
A silver bath for me."

'He ordered then his men to bring
The cover home to him;
And quick with water from the spring
To fill it to the brim.

'But all implored him not to touch
The lid with this intent,
Because the giver's charge was such
They dreaded what it meant.

'"Away!" replied the chief, in wrath,
"Ye cowards, from my sight!
For I will have my silver bath
Before I sleep to-night.

'"So off, to get the cover, go!
The water will but be
The cooler, if the night winds blow
Upon it fresh and free."

'Then, when they went, as they were bid,
To do the stern commands,
It set the figures on the lid
To stirring in their hands.

'And reptile, bird, and beast began
To move, and writhe, and twist,
As if to caution every man
Who bore them, to desist!

'The scaly serpent showed a sting,
And, hissing, seemed to say,
They'd rue the hour, when from the spring
They bore the lid away.

'When, by their chief, with water filled,
They left it, to retire,
Their breasts were some with horror chilled,
And others burnt with ire.

'But every clansman sought his home,
And saw the fall of night,
With gloomy thoughts of what might come
Before the morning light.

' They feared that earthquake, fire, or wind,
Or famine, or the sword,
Would punish all who did not mind
The great magician's word.

'Then one sad, solitary man
Escaped from out the gate,
And, to a hill, in secret, ran,
To mark the city's fate.

'At midnight hour, when all was still,
And not a leaf was stirred,
That lonely watchman on the hill,
The shrieks of anguish heard.

'And "water! water!" was the cry,
That from the city broke,
In voices that were wild and high,
And mortal terror spoke.

'It was a solemn, awful sound,
For one alone to hear,
As through the hills it echoed round,
Then died upon the ear.

''T was but a little while, and all
Was over with the clan!
For not within the city wall
Was there a living man!

'The spring had bubbled up and swelled,
And to a deluge spread,
Till now the silent dwellings held
But water and the dead!

'And still the waters spread and grew,
Till in a single night,
This mighty lake arose to view,
A city sunk from sight!

'And, when the deep is calm and clear,
These little isles between
The walls and dwellings buried here,
May yet, in part, be seen.

'But often, when the raging storm
Is now about to wake,
A cloudy boat and spirit form
Will sail above the lake.

'They say, 't is old O'Donaghue,
Who haunts the waters still,
And having nothing good to do,
Is busied yet with ill.

'The costly bath, wherein he died,
Is turned to silver mist;
But still upon its bright outside
The serpents crawl and twist.

'The boatmen shun his troubled path
Across the frowning flood,
For he is still a son of wrath,
Though not of flesh and blood!

'On yonder rock there sits a man,
Who saw him yesterday,
An hour before the storm began,
That drove his boat away!

'Now, when your honor likes to take
Another pleasant sail,
To view the islands of the lake,
I'll tell another tale.'