A Broadside: No. 9 Second Year
Title
A Broadside: No. 9 Second Year
Subject
Ireland
Dun Emer Press
Cuala Press
A Broadside
Irish Literary Revival
The Gaelic Revival
Description
PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.
300 copies only.
The woodcut on page [2] has caption: "Grandpapa's Hunting".
The woodcut on page [3] has caption: "The Fate of Hahnet". Signed Jack B. Yeats,
Creator
E. C. Yeats
Jack B. Yeats
Thomas Davis
Publisher
Cuala Press
Date
February, 1909
Text
LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF [EOGAN RUAD UA NEIL]
COMMONLY CALLED OWEN ROE O'NEIL
Time- 10th Nov., 1649. Scene - Ormond's Camp, County
Waterford. Speakers - A Veteran of Owen O'Neil's clan, and
One of the horsemen, just arrived with an account of his death.
'Did they dare, did they dare to slay Owen Roe O'Neil?'
'Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel.'
'May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!
'May they walk in living death, who poisoned Owen Roe!
Though it break my heart to hear, say again the bitter words.'
'From Derry, against Cromwell, he marched to measure swords;
But the weapon of the Saxon met him on his way,
And he died at Cloc Uactair, upon Saint Leonard's Day.'
'Wail, wail ye for the Mighty One! Wail, wail ye for the Dead;
'Quench the hearth, and hold the breath- with ashes strew the head.
How tenderly we loved him! How deeply we deplore!
Holy Saviour! but to think we shall never see him more.
Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall,
Sure we never won a battle - 'twas Owen won them all.
Had he lived - had he lived - our dear country had been free;
But he's dead, but he's dead, and 'tis slaves we'll ever be.
O'Farrell and Clanicarde, Preston and Red Hugh,
Audley and MacMahon - ye are valiant, wise, and true;
But - what are ye all to our darling who is gone?
The Rudder of our Ship was he, our Castle's corner-stone!
Wail, wail him through the Island! Weep, weep, for our pride!
Would that on the battle field our gallant chief had died!
Weep the Victor of Beinn Burb - weep him, young men and old;
Weep for him, ye women - your Beautiful lies cold!
We thought you would not die - we were sure you would not go,
And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell's cruel blow -
Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky -
Oh! why did you leave us, Owen? Why did you die?
Soft as woman's was your voice, O'Neil! bright was your eye,
Oh! why did you leave us, Owen? why did you die?
Your troubles are all over, you're at rest with God on high;
But we're slaves, and we're orphans, Owen! - why did you die?'
Thomas Davis.
COMMONLY CALLED OWEN ROE O'NEIL
Time- 10th Nov., 1649. Scene - Ormond's Camp, County
Waterford. Speakers - A Veteran of Owen O'Neil's clan, and
One of the horsemen, just arrived with an account of his death.
'Did they dare, did they dare to slay Owen Roe O'Neil?'
'Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel.'
'May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!
'May they walk in living death, who poisoned Owen Roe!
Though it break my heart to hear, say again the bitter words.'
'From Derry, against Cromwell, he marched to measure swords;
But the weapon of the Saxon met him on his way,
And he died at Cloc Uactair, upon Saint Leonard's Day.'
'Wail, wail ye for the Mighty One! Wail, wail ye for the Dead;
'Quench the hearth, and hold the breath- with ashes strew the head.
How tenderly we loved him! How deeply we deplore!
Holy Saviour! but to think we shall never see him more.
Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall,
Sure we never won a battle - 'twas Owen won them all.
Had he lived - had he lived - our dear country had been free;
But he's dead, but he's dead, and 'tis slaves we'll ever be.
O'Farrell and Clanicarde, Preston and Red Hugh,
Audley and MacMahon - ye are valiant, wise, and true;
But - what are ye all to our darling who is gone?
The Rudder of our Ship was he, our Castle's corner-stone!
Wail, wail him through the Island! Weep, weep, for our pride!
Would that on the battle field our gallant chief had died!
Weep the Victor of Beinn Burb - weep him, young men and old;
Weep for him, ye women - your Beautiful lies cold!
We thought you would not die - we were sure you would not go,
And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell's cruel blow -
Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky -
Oh! why did you leave us, Owen? Why did you die?
Soft as woman's was your voice, O'Neil! bright was your eye,
Oh! why did you leave us, Owen? why did you die?
Your troubles are all over, you're at rest with God on high;
But we're slaves, and we're orphans, Owen! - why did you die?'
Thomas Davis.
Original Format
Broadside
Files
Collection
Citation
E. C. Yeats, Jack B. Yeats, and Thomas Davis, “A Broadside: No. 9 Second Year,” Linda Lear Center Digital Collections and Exhibitions, accessed November 21, 2024, https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1367.