1 pageomitted A1r

Irish Tales:


Or,
Instructive Histories for the
happy Conduct of Life.


Containing the following Events.
viz.

  • I. The Captivated Monarch.
  • II. The Banish’d Prince.
  • III. The Power of Beauty.
  • IV. The Distrest Lovers.
  • V. The Perfidious Gallant.
  • VI. The Constant Fair-One.
  • VII. The Generous Rival.
  • VIII. The Inhuman Father.
  • IX. The Depos’d Usurper.
  • X. The Punishment of Ungenerous
    Love
    .

By Mrs. Sarah Butler.

London: Printed for E. Curll at
the Dial and Bible, and J. Hooke, at
the Flower-de-Luce, both against St.
Dunstan’s Church
in Fleetstreet, 17161716.
Price 1 s. 6 d. Stitch’d, 2 s. Bound.

A1v 9 charactersomitted A2r iii

The
Epistle Dedicatory,
to the
Right Honourable
The Earl of Lincoln.

My Lord,

The Fair Authress of
the following Sheets
being Dead, and the
Publication of them
falling into my Hands,
I could not think of any Patron,
under whose Protection, they A2 might A2v iv
might with that Advantage I desir’d,
venture into the Publick, so
properly as your Lordship’s. For,
where better could Heroic
Love
, and all the Patriot
Virtues
find a surer and more
auspicious Refuge, than under
that Nobleman’s Protection, whose
distinguish’d Honour, and good
Sense has render’d him so eminently
capable of the former; and
whose stedfast Zeal for his Country’s
Service in the most dubious,
and difficult of Times has been
so conspicuous to all that know
any thing of our publick Affairs,
as that of your Lordship. Yes, my
Lord, that Heroic Firmness and Resolution
you discover’d then in your
Conduct, has made you the peculiar
Darling of all true Britons,
of all Lovers of the best of Kings,
and Constitutions. Resolution,
and Uncorruptible Faith are not the A3r v
the common Growth of this Age,
which makes every Consideration
yield to the poor and mean Prospects
of immediate and Personal
Advantages, either in Wealth, or
in Power and Dignities; and few,
very few have been found, whom
neither the Malice and ungenerous
Persecution of Potent and disappointed
Enemies could break, nor
all the gilded Baits of Power,
Riches, Flattery, Pleasure, and
the other cunning Arts of insinuating
into the Minds of the young
and uncautious (in which vile
Arts, those were no small Proficients,
who had then the Publick
Management of Affairs) could
corrupt, or give the least shock
to; on whose Wiles, tho’ many
were deceived by them, your Lordship, supported by a perfect
Integrity, and just Understanding,
look’d down and despis’d.

A3 It A3v vi

It is such a Publick Spirit,
such an Understanding, that qualifies
a Nobleman to be worthy
of the Addresses of the Muses.
For whoever loves his Country,
must be pleas’d to see Arts
Flourish, which add to its Glory
and its Felicity; since that Country
can only be estem’d truly Happy
and Great, where Arts as
well as Arms find publick Encouragement.
And of all Arts,
Poetry is perhaps the chief,
which deserves the peculiar Care
of the Great and the Polite.

If we may decide this by what
we find in History, it is plain, that
where-ever Heroic Fortitude, and
Martial Glory have found a distinguishing
Success, there Poetry
has met with the greatest
Indulgence.

Athens A4r vii

Athens, which polish’d
Mankind by her Poets, was
able by her single Valour, under
the Conduct of Miltiades,
with Ten Thousand Men, to defeat
some Hundreds of Thousands
of Persians. Rome in her greatest
Glory, and most establish’d
Fortune, became a Rival of
Greece in that Noble Art,
while Virgil, Horace, Varius,
Tucca and many more,
found themselves the peculiar Favourites
of the ablest Statesman,
and most illustrious Emperor that
Nation ever knew.

It would be no difficult Matter,
my Lord, to carry on the
Proof of this in a less eminent
degree through the several Kingdoms
that arose out of the Ruins
of the Roman Empire, even from Italy, A4v viii
Italy, to Hungary; but that would
be a Work of too large an Extent
for the narrow Compass of an
Epistle. By hinting this here, I
only aim at stirring up, if possible,
a generous Ambition in our
Great Men, of distinguishing
themselves in a manner so worthy
of Power and Dignity.

I have known a Nobleman,
who (I know not by what means)
got a popularity for his Generosity,
who yet could only justly
pretend to an injudicious
Profusion; for he has given a Piper
Three Hundred Guineas,
when a Man of Learning
found but a very mean Gratuity
for a most valuable Performance.
But several have, indeed,
been bountiful to Fidlers,
and the thrilling Throng, while
we have found very few Sidneys and A5r ix
and Sackviles, since we have
pretended to Politeness; and yet
the many Excellent Products of
Poetry, with little or no Encouragement,
are a Proof that it is
the natural Growth of the Clime,
and with a tolerable Cultivation,
might arrive at the greatest Perfection.

The following Sheets, my
Lord, are of this Kind; that is,
they are allow’d by the Learned
to be a useful sort of Poetry, tho’
without the advantageous Harmony
of Verse. For as all Poetry
is an Imitation, as Aristotle
justly observes, it is plain
that all Fables are Imitations
of Actions, which is the essence
of both the Dramatic and
Epic Poesie.

But this Prosaic Poetry is
of as ancient a Date as the Milesiansian A5v x
Tales
, which so charm’d Antiquity
it self. The Moderns
since the Time of Heliodorus,
have often vary’d their Form;
some Years ago they swell’d them
into large Volumes, but of late
the general Tast runs for such as
are compriz’d in a much narrower
Compass; from whence we
derive so many Books of Tales,
which have not yet fail’d of Success.
These that follow, in my
Opinion, fall not in the least short
of the most excellent that have
yet appear’d; there being a Pathetic
Tenderness. that runs quite
through them, supported by a
Noble and Heroic Fortitude.

The Preface will shew your
Lordship that their Foundation is
laid on true History, and the Lady
has so artfully Grafted the
Fiction upon it, that the whole bears A6r xi
bears the pleasing Appearance of
Truth and Reality.

If they contribute to the Diversion
of any Hour of your
Lordship’s more elegant Leisure,
I have my Aim. My Ambition
to give this publick Testimony of
my Esteem and Value for your
Lordship’s singular Virtues, would
not suffer me to lose the first Opportunity
of doing it, unable to
delay my Zeal ’till I had something
more solid to offer; though
perhaps, in Justice, it is not the most
unmeritorious Endeavour to contribute
to our Diversion; and I
hope it will be thus favourably receiv’d
by your Lordship from,

My Lord,

Your Lordship’s most Humble
and most Obedient Servant,

Charles Gildon.

The A6v library stampomitted
a1r

The
Preface.

I here present the
Reader with some
few of those many
Transactions which
made up the Lives
of two of the most
Potent Monarchs of the Milesian
Race, in that Ancient Kingdom
of Ireland: And although I have
cloath’d it with the Dress and
Title of a Novel; yet (so far I
dare speak in my own behalf, that)
I have err’d as little from the
Truth of the History, as any perhapsa haps a1v
who have undertaken any
thing of this Nature.

What I have added, is only the
Love and Amorous Discourses of
Murchoe and Dooneflaith; whose
Name I have presum’d upon, since
in the Chronicles and Writings of
all those, which I have read, who
have Treated on that Subject,
make no mention of the Name of
Maolseachelvin’s Daughter; tho’
none ofaf them hardly but take notice
of the Story. And finding in
Dr. Ketrius’s Manuscript that of
Dooneflaith to be in use at that
time, and (if I mistake not) to be
the Name of her Mother, I
therefore was the more willing to
imagin I should not err so much
from Truth, as if I had given her
a feign’d one, to give that to her
Daughter.

Some (upon what Grounds I
know not) would needs have their
manner and way of making Love, which a2r
which I have brought as near as I
could to our modern Phrase, to be
too Passionate and Elegant for the
Irish, and contrary to the Humours,
they alledge, of so Rude and Illiterate
a People; when all the while
they do not consider, that altho’
they may seem so now, in the Circumstances
they lie under, (having
born the heavy Yoke of Bondage
for so many Years, and have been
Cow’d down in their Spirits) yet
that once Ireland was esteem’d one
of the Principal Nations in Europe
for Piety and Learning; having
formerly been so Holy, that
it wasterm’dwas term’d The Island of Saints;
and for Learning so Eminent, as all
their Chronicles make out, and
some others who were not of that
Nation, as Bede, Bede in his Hist. Anglic. INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that citedRange is unmatched.lib. 3 cap. 4, 5,
19. & lib. 4. cap. 25.
and Camden
Camden Brittan.
p. 730. Edit. Lond. in fol. anno. 16071607.
do avouch for them.

a2a2 It a2v

It was so Famous for Breeding,
that many from the adjacent
Islands, and most parts of the
Continent of Europe came thither
for it.

Insomuch as P. Walsh says in
his Prospect of Ireland, that when
any were wanting from their own
Country, it came to be a Proverb,
“He is gone to Ireland to be bred.”

And another in the Life of Sulgenus,
has this Distich. “Exemplo patrum commotus
amori legendi,
Ivit ad Hibernos Sophia
mirabile daros.”

And we find in their Chronicles,
that there were Four Great
Universities in Ireland, viz. Ardmagh,
Cashell, Dunda-Leathghlass,
and Lismore, besides many
other Colleges of less Note elsewhere;
and as Keting in his Manuscriptnuscript a3r
has it, in the Reign of
Couchuvair Mac-Donochoe
, that
there were no less than 7000
Scholars at one time in one of
those Universities, viz. Ardmagh;
and that they were the Irish in
those Days who gave a beginning
Abroad, as some Writers say, to
the Schools of Oxford. But it is
most certain they did to those of
Paris and Pavia, and many other
great Colleges of Learning in Foreign
Parts.

And both Camden and Edmund
Spenser
in his View
of Ireland
, INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that citedRange is unmatched.page 29
. do acknowledge,
“That our Ancestors in Great
Britain
learned the very form and
manner of framing their Character
for Writing, from Ireland.”

From what has been said, (tho’
not a Tenth part of what might
be on this very account) I hop’d I
might have liberty to dress their
words in as becoming a Phrase as my a3v
my weak Capacity could frame,
or the time that I did it in would
allow.

As for the other part of the
Story, it is all Historical, and
treads only the Path of the true
Chronicle, if we may give Credit
to my Authors, who are Bede,
Camden, Heylin, Spenser, Hanmor,
Campion, Dr. Keting, Sir
James Ware
, Flahertus, and P.
Walsh
. I have, I must confess,
omitted several Remarkable Passages,
and Twenty four of the
Twenty five Battles which Bryan
Boraimh
Fought in his Reign and
won; but yet I have not foisted in
any thing, that might be injurious
to the Truth, in their Places, and
have only made a Compendium of
Things as tho’ done in four or
five Years time, which perhaps
were Transacting half so many
score.

I have a4r

I have constrain’d my self, contrary
to the Custom of most who
write these sort of Essays, to make
my Lovers die unmarried; since I
could find no Authority to the
contrary. And I should indeed
have been very willing to have
embrac’d the Opportunity (could
I have found any colour for it) of
making them, after so many Misfortunes,
to have ended their Trouble
in the Married Bed.

Lastly, since my Design in the
beginning was to shew the strange
means by which Ireland was once
deliver’d from the Tyranny of
Turgesius and the Danes, by the
Beauty of a Virgin; I thought it
might not be impertinent to the
Story, to make the same Maid,
tho’ in a more vertuous way, be
the Instrument of saving it a second
time, by infusing of Courage
into her Lover, who, we’ll suppose
for her sake, did things that Day, a4v
Day, which almost surpass all belief;
tho’ at the same time she
had little or no part it may be
in the Victory. This License I
presum’d might lawfully be granted
in a Novel.

Irish B1r
1

Irish Tales.

Lasting and Terrible
were the bloody
Wars which the Ancient
Irish sustain’d against
the powerful
Danes; who, by their vast Numbers,
and continual supplies of
fresh Men, who Recruited them
daily, and were weekly landing
at one Port or other, came to their
aid, they being then Masters of
the Sea, so harass’d and tir’d the
long defending Islanders, that at
last they were forc’d to submit,
and their Provincial Kings become B for B1v 2
for some small space of Time,
Tributaries to the Dane.

Turgesius, the Danish Captain
General, being a Soldier of invincible
Courage, and no less
Ambitious, made himself be
stil’d Monarch of Ireland, and
with a Splendid and Magnificent
Train of hardy and resolute Warriors,
whom Peace and Idleness,
the Seeds of Wickedness, and
the Mildew of Vertue had rusted
into Courtiers, kept his
Court in the center of the Country,
at Lough-Ribh, near that
place, where now stands the
Town of Athlone.

He was a Man so skill’d and
train’d up in Arms, and Martial
Fatigues, that had he only follow’d
the Business he profess’d,
his Conquests and Victories might
have been an everlasting Theme
for Ages to come; and had not
his Lust like a Canker eaten away the B2r 3
the Inscriptions his Sword had engraven,
his Victorious Memory
might to this day have been the
enduring Song of Fame.

Turgesius having subdu’d the
best part of the People of this Nation,
nay, indeed, we may say all,
but a few who knew not how
to bow their Necks in subjection
to any but a lawful Prince, or
stoop to any thing beneath their
free Liberties, and Obedience to
their own Kings, had betaken
themselves to Boggs, Woods,
Mountains, Rocks, and inaccessible
Places; whose Wisdom and Conduct
being back’d with an inimitable
Valour, in a few Weeks
wrought out their own Infranchizements,
and broke the servile
Bonds, in which their fellow Irish
were enslav’d, notwithstanding
the mighty Care and Circumspection
Turgesius us’d to the contrary;
for there was not a Hole, or B2 a B2v 4
a Corner, much less a Town or a
City in the whole Realm, that
was capable of it, in which he
had not planted a Garrison, made
as he thought, secure by impregnable
Fortifications.

All things being order’d in this
manner, he began to partake of
the Pleasures of Peace, which his
long Toil and indefatigable Labours
had newly establish’d.
Those cruel Wars which had open’d
the veins of this distemper’d
sick Kingdom, had not yet drain’d
one drop of his ill Blood, which
corrupting for want of usual Exercise,
made him degenerate from
the noble Science of War, to practise
that of Love; and giving
way to his unruly Passion, became
in a short time wholly
Conquer’d by the fair Eyes of
Dooneflaith, the Daughter of
Maolseachelvin King of Meath.

This B3r 5

This Lady was one, on whom
Nature had lavishly bestow’d all
the Graces and Ornaments which
could be, to make Humanity adorable;
she was so nobly endow’d,
and so incomparably Beautiful,
that to see her, and not admire
her, was impossible; yet
was she capable of all the soft
sentiments Love could imprint;
and had already devoted her Heart
to a Man, to whom without blame
she might warrantably do, being
Prince Murchoe Eldest Son to
Bryan Boriamh, who was afterwards
Elected King of all Ireland.

This Prince matchless in his
gallant Exploits, was not less to
be paralell’d in his Love; it is
enough to tell you, he saw the
beautiful Dooneflaith, and consequently
lost his Heart in the sight;
but so much awe did her Vertue
create in him, that for some time B3 he B3v 6
he languish’d in the Torments of
his Flame, without daring to utter
one word of his Love; and
all the while the charming Dooneflaith
was subject to the same
Malady.

Thus for a Time did these
two secret Lovers live in Hopes
that Fortune would at some time
or other, be propitious to their
Amours; and altho’ they were so
enamour’d of each other, yet
dar’d not either of them shew the
least sign of their Passion. For
now Turgesius made it his business
to win the Heart of this Lady,
and Maolseachelvin himself was
not the last who discern’d it; nor
could he any way forbid his Address,
knowing how dangerous a
thing it might prove, to stand in
competition with so mighty and
powerful a King. Murchoe was
not insensible of it, and to his
inexpressible Grief, was forc’d in silence B4r 7
silence to bewail his Misfortunes,
and see all the Joy of his Soul
Caress’d and Ador’d by another:
What Lamentations and Moans
would he make when alone? And
what Grief would possess him,
when he fear’d that his charming
Dooneflaith might in time consent
to the Love of the Tyrant. He
became so Melancholy and Troubled,
that the whole Court cou’d
not but take notice of it; and
notwithstanding he us’d all endeavours
to stifle his Flame, yet he
could not so closely conceal it,
but Turgesius (for no Eyes are
sharper than those of the Jealous)
perceiv’d it; and under pretence
that he suspected him to be
Ill inclin’d to his Government,
Banish’d him the Province,
which was a far greater Punishment
to the young Prince, than
had he instantly doom’d him to
Die.

B4 Doone- B4v 8

Dooneflaith was soon made acquainted
with the Misfortune of
Murchoe, in which she took such
part, that she had much ado to
refrain falling in a swoon before
the King, and was forc’d to feign
an Excuse to get from his sight;
she went slenderly accompanied,
having but two Maids who
kept at a distance, into a Garden,
at the farther end of which was
a Grove, whose melancholy shades
seem’d fittest for her Condition;
and in which obscurity she might
have free Liberty (thinking no
body by) to vent her Complaints,
while her Women, who seeing
her sit down on a Bank, retir’d
to an Arbour hard by.

It was not without much trouble,
and many endeavours that
she could find utterance for her
words, her sighs and sobs still
hindring her Speech; but at length
having by large streams of Tears, which B5r 9
which ran down her Cheeks, almost
drain’d the Channels of her
Eyes, she began to give ease to
her Heart, which without vent,
must have certainly burst.

“Oh! unfortunate and miserable
Dooneflaith”
(saith she)
“whither wilt thou fly for ease,
since Murchoe, the peace of thy
Soul is banish’d thy sight, and
whose presence was the only
stay of my Life; what avails
Life, or Eyes to me, now that
dear Object’s gone? Surely this
Tyrant who usurps our Throne,
has found I love the Prince, and
his Jealous Fears have drove
him from the Court, that he
might also usurp a place in my
Heart! Oh! Murchoe, Murchoe,
cou’dst thou but know my
Soul; Oh! that my sighs could
reach thy distant Ears, and make
thee sensible of what I suffer
for thee.”

B5 While B5v 10

While she was thus complaining
to her self, e’re she was aware
Turgesius approach’d her, and
found her in tears; just at the
same time as Murchoe, who behind
an adjoyning Hedge had
over-heard all she had said, was
going to throw himself at her
feet; but seeing Turgesius arrive,
he lay still, as much pleas’d with
what he had learnt from Dooneflaith’s
own mouth, as troubled
and afflicted at the coming of so
Potent a Rival, who hinder’d
him from making known to his
Mistriss the sense that he had of
her Goodness, and the absolute
Power she had gain’d over his
Heart.

Dooneflaith was greatly surpriz’d
to see one so near her,
whom she so much fear’d, and
had cause to hate; she would
have risen and left the Place to
the King; but was prevented, by B6r 11
by his taking her by the Hand,
and throwing himself down by
her; she, not yet well awaken’d
from the lulling Cogitations of her
dear Murchoe, her beautiful Face
all cover’d with blushes, was
forc’d to sit down by Turgesius;
who casting a look, which signify’d
how much he was concern’d
for her Trouble, desir’d her to
tell him the cause of it; adding,
if it lay in his power to give
her Redress, she had no more to
do but command him.

Dooneflaith, at the present,
was at a loss what Answer to
make him; ’till after several Demands,
she spoke in this manner.

“My Lord” (said she) “you urge
me to do that, which I fear
when perform’d, will displease
you. ’Tis not but that I know
the Honour you are pleas’d to
confer on our Family in vouchsafeingB6 safeing B6v 12
to cast your Affections on
me, who so little deserve them;
nor is it, but that I have confidence
enough in your Kingly
Word, that makes me thus
scrupulous; but so it is, unless
with an Oath you confirm that
you will grant my Request, I
shall still keep the cause of my
Grief to my self.”

Turgesius, was strangely perplex’d
in his Mind, to see one,
whom he thought he might have
commanded, make Capitulations
with him, and so much to distrust
the Word of a Monarch, that no
less than an Oath would serve to
confirm her, He told her, “That
had she not gotten an absolute
sway over his Heart, he wou’d
never have condescended to a
thing the most powerful Prince
shou’d never have gained from
him; in short, he swore to her
By Heaven, and all his Pagan “Gods, B7r 13
Gods, that whatever she demanded
if it lay in his power
should be granted, upon Condition
that she would allow him
to love her, and give him leave
to hope, that in time his Passion
might be rewarded.”

“My, Lord,” (reply’d she) “you
pretend to grant my request,
and tell me my Power is absolute,
and yet you confine me
to that, which perhaps, of all
things in the World is opposite
to my quiet; as for your loving
me, it lies not in my power to
hinder; and as for your hopes
that your Passion may be rewarded,
is a thing I can willingly
suffer, so that you will
not by your Power and Authority
urge me to Marry you against
my consent, and withall,
that you would recall the
unhappy Murchoe, whom I “know B7v 14
know you have banish’d only
for my sake.”

Turgesius after a small pause,
answer’d her “Madam” said
he “altho’ your Father should
command you to marry me,
nay, tho’ my Life, and my future
Eternal Happiness only depended
upon it, yet will I allow
you your own liberty, nor
ever Wed you, unless you
freely consent to it. But as
for Murchoe’s repeal, it wou’d
indeed shew in me too much
love, but too little discretion;
for I know well, Madam,”
(says
he going on) “the Prince’s
Thoughts are too aspiring,
and that so long as he lives in
the Province, I must expect neither
Peace in my Throne, nor
my Love, for I have more sufficient
Proofs than bare report,
that he Rivals me both in your
Heart and my Crown: How “much B8r 15
much cause have I therefore to
to hate him? especially now,
since you are so much interested
for him, I shall but take into
my Bosom a Snake, that
when warm’d again with my
Favour, will sting me to the
Heart, and with his Venom rankle
all my Peace and Tranquility;
however, to shew you that
I pretend not to your Love by
that power the Heavens have
put into my Hands, I freely
consent that he stay still at home,
nay even here in our Court,
and I shall admit him to use all
his Art, and make his Addresses
to you, so that I likewise may
be heard in my turn.”

Turgesius remained some time
silent, in expectation of her Answer,
but the blessing his Words
had pour’d on her Heart, was
too mighty for her Tongue, nor
knew she how to return him the Thanks B8v 16
Thanks which were due for so noble
an Offer, without betraying
too much of her Love, but at last
overcoming the conflict in her
Soul, she utter’d these Words.

“Most renowned Conqueror!
your Generosity and Goodness
have so far wrought on my
Heart, that I fear there is nothing
in honour you can demand,
that I shall have the ability to
deny you: And since it hath
pleas’d you to leave all to my
choice, I make a farther reference
of it to Heaven, who I
humbly implore to direct all
my Actions; and since so freely
you have told me your mind,
I will be as liberal of mine, and
here solemnly protest, that Murchoe
has never so much as open’d
his Mouth, or made
known to me by any means
whatsoever, the things which
you lay to his Charge.”

Turgesius B9r 17

Turgesius was pleas’d at these
Words, and took his leave of her,
with a promise immediately to recall
Murchoe, whom he told her
he believ’d was not departed from
Court, it being yet within the limits
of the time appointed for his
Banishment. Dooneflaith return’d
him such an answer, as the Nobleness
of the Deed did require; she
told him he had now took the
right course to succeed in his Love;
but no sooner was he parted from
her, but she began to accuse her
own Heart for what she had done,
and altho’ it was only what her
love for Murchoe had urg’d her
to, yet she could not but lightly
condemn the way that she had taken
to gain his Repeal; she was
too sensible there was no room in
her Breast for any but Murchoe,
and that Turgesius, with all his
endeavours could never supplant
the esteem she had for him; and withal, B9v 18
withal, vow’d in her heart, that
if once Murchoe shou’d mention
his Love, to give him such an answer
as should not displease him.

Turgesius had no sooner left her,
but at a small distance he espies
Dooneflaith’s two Women, who
at present he knew not, and his
curiosity pressing him to see who
they were that were most melodiously
singing to an Harp, which
they had brought with them into
the Garden, Musick being the
chief thing that did of late allay
the melancholly humour of their
Lady; he therefore retir’d under
the covert of an Hedge that was by
and had but just laid himself down
to give attention to the Song, but
he espied Murchoe with his Sword
in his hand; Turgesius call’d to
his Guards, thinking he had some
design on his Person; but Murchoe
dissipated those fears, by throwing
Himself, and his Sword at the Conque- B10r 19
Conquerors Feet, without so much
as speaking one Word.

Turgesius, who was now in a
greater surprize, to see his most
mortal Enemy (as he thought
him) in so suppliant a posture, and
not doubting but that Murchoe
had had some private Conference
with his Mistress, was inflam’d with
such Jealousy, that with a fierce
and angry tone he pronounc’d aloud
these Words, which Dooneflaith
plainly could hear.

“Ha! Villain,” (says he to Murchoe)
“what rash and inconsiderate
Thing art thou, whom Heaven
has so far deserted, that
thou sett’st thy Life at no higher
a rate, than thus to presume to
approach one, whom so justly
thou hast made thy Enemy, and
thus darest to infringe those fatal
Orders I have given; and
thus by intrenching on the liberty
I have allowed thee, for thy “two B10v 20
two days stay to make preparation
for thy Banishment, and takest
the privilege to interrupt the
solitude of her, whom my heart
adores, and thereby pull down
thy sudden Undoing.”

Murchoe heard these Threats
with a Soul all inflam’d with Revenge;
but fearing the prejudice
of his Mistress, who now he began
to hope, held not his Life indifferent,
stifled at present his resentment,
and tho’ at any other time
he had a mortal detestation of Flattery,
yet now he thought it most
expedient for the working his interest
with the divine Dooneflaith,
answer’d him thus.

“Most puissant, yet haughty
Turgesius, that Title of Villain
you gave me, I renounce,
and had you been ten times
my Conqueror, would retort it
back to thy Face; had I not by
accident, and not willingly heard “how B11r 21
how generously you intend to
proceed; it is not this miserable
Life I fear to lose, nor is it
that Heaven has so far deserted
me that makes me Bow at
your Feet, nor is this posture I
am now in, so Suppliant as it
is Thankful; I bow thus low to
Turgesius, not that I fear the
worst he can do, but to return
him my thanks for the freedom
he gives me in once more seeing
Dooneflaith, and for the liberty
he has granted to permit me
to make my humble Addresses
to her. Now witness for me all
ye Pow’rs above, my Life, my
Honour, nay, what’s more, my
very Soul, I set at nought when
She e’er stands in Competition.
I must confess, and ’tis the first
time I ever taught my Tongue
to say it, I Love! I Love, the
fair, the charming, virtuous, and
all divine Dooneflaith; but to “my B11v 22
my everlasting Torment, I love,
without expectance of return;
no, were my hopes as great and
high as Sinners new absolv’d, I
should despair, since I have you
for my Rival. What Power have
I, dejected banish’d I, when such
a resistless Conqueror puts in
his claim? A Crown, a Crown,
Turgesius, I fear will dazzle her
fair Eyes, so glittering will the
mighty Glory shine, that she
will look on no less light.”

“Enough, Murchoe,” says Turgesius,
“and as I conquer’d thee
in Arms, I’ll Conquer in my
Love; henceforward I’ll lay
by my Crown, that shall be
no title to gain her; nay more,
thus far I promise thee, that I
will ne’er demand her for my
Wife, nor seek her for my Bed
on such a Price; Love only shall
be currant Coin, and that I’ll
lavish to acquire my Ends; take “then B12r 23
then your Sword, take my Forgiveness,
thy own Liberty, and
if thou canst, take Dooneflaith,
I’ll condescend so low to call
thee Rival now; and since unurg’d
thou ownest thou lovest
her, thou wilt have punishment
enough for all thy Crimes, to
see her circled by her own consent
within these Arms.”

By this time the Guards were
come up, and Turgesius, in the sight
of them, and Dooneflaith, who
also was come up when he call’d
to his Guards, took Murchoe from
the Ground, and in the presence
of them all, pronounced his Pardon,
and the freedom he allow’d
him to make his Addresses to
Dooneflaith.

Dooneflaith was so taken with
his generous Proceeding, that she
cou’d not with-hold from giving
him a thousand Praises, which
made him imagine he had no small Inte- B12v 24
Interest in her Heart already; and
were as so many stabs in the Breast
of Murchoe, who now began to
think that her pleading for his repeal,
was only out of fear that in
his absence, he might raise new
Forces, and so once more bring
Turgesius’s Life into hazard: After
a walk or two in the Garden,
Turgesius making Murchoe take
one of Dooneflaith’s fair hands,
while he held the other, they went
in all together; and now the whole
Court was talking of nothing, but
the aspiring Love of Murchoe, and
the noble Condescention of Turgesius.

Maolseachelvin was at that instant
with Brian Boraimh, Murchoe’s
Father
, in consultation how they
should shake off the tyrannous
Yoak of this Usurper, when this last
adventure came to their Ears, Moalseachelvin
from thence gather’d
some hopes of accomplishing his ends; C1r 25
ends; but Brian inwardly accused
his Son of disloyalty to his Country,
who when he had the Tyrant
alone, at his Mercy, prefer’d the
love of Maolseachelvin’s Daughter,
before that of his Honour, and his
enthrall’d Kingdom, wherefore
they both parted at that time,
without coming to any result.

The next day Turgesius made
his addresses to Dooneflaith, but
found his reception colder than he
imagin’d; wherefore sending for
her Father, he discover’d his Mind
to him, and contrary to his Promise
and Oath to Dooneflaith, commanded
him to use his utmost endeavours
to reduce his Daughter
to accept his Love.

Murchoe taking the advantage
of Turgesius’s Permission, went also
to Dooneflaith, where he freely
open’d his Mind, and discover’d
to her all that he had heard from
her the day before in the Garden, C she C1v 26
she saw it was now no time any
longer to hide her affections, and
to the unspeakable joy of Murchoe,
confess’d that he had won so much
on her heart, that would their Parents
consent, she was willing to
accept him for her Husband; this
was not so privately done, but a
Spy whom Turgesius had secretly
plac’d there to that purpose, made
him acquainted with all that had
pass’d, which rais’d such confusion
in his Soul, that he knew not
how to be reveng’d on Murchoe,
nor what punishment to inflict on
Dooneflaith; but after many tormenting
Cogitations, was resolv’d,
himself, to be a private Spectator;
and if that he found what he
fear’d, (and was told him) to be
true, to end Murchoe’s Life with
his own hand.

Wherefore in a day or two after,
seeing Dooneflaith was inexorable
to all his Intreaties, he seem’d C2r 27
seem’d to give over his Suit, and
now Murchoe had the greater liberty
of prosecuting his Amours.
He had endur’d all the reproaches
that an incens’d Father cou’d make
him, and had in vain solicited for
his consent, and altho’ he found
his Mistress, and also her Father
no ways averse, but rather desiring
the Match, yet to his affliction
and sorrow he could see no probability
of his happiness, since his
own Father stood so much against
it: No Prayers, nor Intreaties
cou’d move him, and he had charged
him no more to visit Dooneflaith
upon that account.

Murchoe, who had yet never
known what Disobedience to his
Father was, and had never broke
the least of his Commands, now
saw himself in a miserable condition,
either he must loose the love
of his Father, or that of his Mistress,
both equally destructive to C2 him, C2v 28
him, he resolves, at last, to follow
his Duty, in hopes that in time his
Love thereby would prove more
happy; he fail’d not however to
pay her his visits, tho’ with a
Countenance less assur’d than before;
and she could not but observe
the great alteration that was
wrought in his Heart; his Words
bore not those soft and sweet accents
they were wont, nor did he
put that joy on his Face as formerly
he had: She could not see
so mighty a change, but ask’d to
be inform’d of the cause, which
with disjointed Words, and heavy
Sighs he at length told her.

“O Madam!” (says he, with
his Eyes flowing over with Tears
)
“how unhappy is the wretched
Murchoe, since even the Heavens
conspire to his Misery! and, but
that I have reason to hope that
I am not altogether indifferent
to you, I should not thus pine “and C3r 29
and waste to my Grave, but
boldly at once leap o’er the battlements
of Life, and seek for a
Death the nearest way.”

Dooneflaith hearing him talk of
Death, took him by the hand,
and (with a thousand soft charms
in her Eyes, tho’ half drown’d
in Tears, said to him) “O my
Lord! can any thing make your
Life so burdensome that you
would quit it so long as I love
you? can you thingthink of wounding
a Heart wherein I have an
interest? For so nearly ally’d
are all your Sufferings to my
self, that not one drop falls from
your Eyes, but my Heart answers
with the like of Blood:
Say then, my Murchoe, what
has befallen? Has Turgesius given
you cause of Jealousy? or
do you think because I allow of
his Visits (which Heaven knows
is not in my pow’r to prevent, C3 “or C3v 30
or I would) that I ever can consent
to his Love? No, no, Murchoe,
not all the Diadems in the
World, not all the Monarchs
on Earth shall put you from
my Heart; there you, and none
but you shall Reign, but play
not the Tyrant there, and
by Turgesius’s Example take
delight to spoil and ransack
what I so freely give,”
—Here her
Sighs broke off her Speech, and
rais’d our Lover from the Extasies
her tender Words had cast
him into.

“Dry up (oh! my Souls dear
Treasure,”
says he) “these precious
Drops, the moyety of which
would largely expiate the Sins
of all Mankind; I know thou
lov’st me, and am prouder in
that Title, than were I Monarch
of the Universe; but my
Dearest, Charming Dooneflaith,
thy Love alone but makes me “mise- C4r 31
miserable, since I must only see
there is an Heaven, but never
be admitted to it. My—Oh
Dooneflaith, my Cruel Father
has commanded me to Love
no more; no more to talk and
spend my happy Hours in thy
blest Company, no more to sit
and gaze on that dear Face, no
more to change soft Looks, and
Prattle with our Eyes the Secrets
of our Hearts; no more
now must I wish for Night,
that in my Dreams my Dooneflaith
may delight me, nor waking
in the Morning rise to
make me blessed in my Visits
to you. Turgesius is all merciful
and good, his Heart more
soft and pliant than my Father’s,
or were it not, with this
Sword I’d—”

Here Turgesius came over from the
Place in which he had over-hear’d
all, and was so transported with C4 his C4v 32
his Rage, that had not Dooneflaith
interpos’d, Murchoe (e’er
he could have turned in his own Defence) had been laid as a Sacrifice
to his Anger dead at his
feet, nor had he the patience (so
much was he blinded with Passion)
to stay till he had call’d his
Guards; but enter’d alone unarmed
all but his Sword.

Murchoe was so lost in his Sorrow,
that till he heard Dooneflaith
shriek out, he saw him not
enter, and was ready to save Turgesius
the pains, and have dy’d of
himself, when he saw his Mistress
hold his Rival in her Arms; then
falling on her Knees (still holding
by his Robe) and profusely
showring down floods of Tears to
save her Lovers Life. “O Turgesius,
my Lord, my King and
Conqueror, spare, O mighty
Monarch, spare my Murchoe’s
Life, and in exchange I’ll give “you C5r 33
you this of mine; kill not a
Man, the Gods themselves wou’d
mourn to lose, one whom their
utmost Skill can never parallell.”

Turgesius by this time repented
him of his entring alone, knowing
by that rashness, that he hazzarded
a Life, his Love, and a
Crown, against a Man most stout,
and much beneath him; wherefore
going to retreat, he was prevented
by Murchoe, who by this
time had got between him and
the Door, and stood ready with
his Sword in his Hand to hinder
his passage. “Is this,” (says he
to him) “according to your Kingly
Word? Do you esteem your
Vows and Oaths so little? Then
Heaven refuse me, when I beg
its Mercy, if I let slip this opportunity.
No, Faithless Tyrant,
now I meet thee single,
come from thy Buckler there, C5 “and C5v 34
and meet me fairly, now show
thy Valour, and preserve thy
Life, by taking mine; for all
the Powers above have joyn’d
consent, that one of us must
fall.”

Turgesius could no longer listen
to his threats, but (disengaging
himself from Dooneflaith, he
cry’d out) “Good Gods, if Insolence
like this, to me, who am
thy King, shall ’scape without
its just Reward, and go away
unpunish’d, let every Schoolboy
whip me with a Rod; and
may the Women brand me,
with the hated Name of Coward!
Die Traytor”
(goes he on
making a stroak at him) since
one of us must fall, take a
Death too glorious for so base
a Villain from they Monarch’s
Hands.”

Here they both engag’d in
Fight, but Dooneflaith fearing the C6r 35
the loss of her lov’d Murchoe,
catches hold of Turgesius’s Arms,
by which means she gave Murchoe
opportunity to get within
him, and disarm him. “Now,
Sir”
(says Murchoe) “but that I
scorn so poor and base Revenge,
and would not use the advantage
given me by a Woman,
I’d ease the Kingdom of its
Thraldome, and free my self
from a perfidious Rival. ’Tis
she alone, that vertuous lovely
Lady, whose presence charms
my Hand from giving thee that
Death which thou deservest.
O Madam”
(says he turning to
Dooneflaith) “how inglorious
have you made my Name!
that, had you given me leave,
might have resounded through
the World, and born the Title
of its Countrys Saver! Ireland
should then have had its native
Liberty again, and I perhaps C6 “been C6v 36
been chose their King, proud
only in that Glory, to lay my
Crown beneath your Feet.”

Turgesius (with a dauntless
Front) told him how much he
was indebted to Dooneflaith, who
had not only Repeal’d his Banishment,
but had now given him
the advantage over him. He told
him withal, how base and mean
insulting was; and bid him, since
he was in his power, to use him
as he pleas’d; but charg’d him
still to be mindful how he got the
Victory so much he boasted of.
Murchoe cou’d no longer endure
the thoughts of making use of
the Advantage given him against
a single Man, threw Turgesius
his Sword, and bid him use it
once more. But Dooneflaith ran
to him, and with Tears in her
Eyes, besought him to desist; but
nothing could prevail; and had
not some of the Courtiers and Guards C7r 37
Guards (who by this time were
come to the place, hearing the
clashing of Swords) prevented
(by disarming the valiant Murchoe)
Turgesius had a second time
fall’n under his Mercy; for just as
they had seiz’d on him, Turgesius’s
Sword broke short to his
Hand.

It was not without many commands
that Turgesius himself cou’d
hinder the enrag’d Soldiers from
taking Murchoe’s Life, and cutting
him to pieces even before
his Mistresses Eyes, who now
pleaded in his behalf so persuasively,
that she obtain’d of the
Monarch his Liberty of Life,
with Condition that he forthwith
left the Kingdom. Murchoe after
what he had done, was glad at
present on any Conditions to get
from the malice of the enraged
Danes; wherefore without so
much as taking his Leave of Dooneflaith,neflaith, C7v 38
he fled from the Court;
but not being willing to leave his
Native Soil, by which he knew
he should utterly be depriv’d of
all means of serving his Mistress;
whose absence now ran more in
his Mind than all his other Misfortunes,
his Life became in two
or three Days so cumbersom to
him, that he was resolv’d either
to lose it, or free it, together
with all Ireland of the Tyrannous
Burthen it bore. To which
end, he posts to Armagh, whereof
Turgesius was quickly inform’d,
and at four several times in one
Month, caused Fire to be set to
that City, to drive him from
thence: Nor did he spare either
Monastery or Church that stood
in his way, lest he should take
Sanctuary in them. He likewise
put to Death all their Priests, and
plac’d Heathen Lay-Abbots in
every Cloister. Nor did his fury spare C8r 39
spare either Sex or Age, whom
he thought favour’d his Concealment.

The poor afflicted Dooneflaith
spent all her Nights and Days in
most cruel condolement for the
loss of her Murchoe; nor could
all the fair Promises or large Offers
Turgesius could make, win
her to bestow on him, even to
his own Face, any other than the
Title of Tyrant; in hopes that
thereby she might raise his Cruelty
to that pitch, as to give her a
Death, which next to the Love
of her dear Murchoe, would now
be most welcome unto her.

Turgesius’s Love now became
so fierce and unruly in his Breast,
that nothing but the Enjoyment
of Dooneflaith could allay it, or
give him one moment of ease;
he resolv’d in himself, nothing
should impede his Desires; wherefore
he once more sends to her Fatherther C8v 40
Maolseachelvin, to use his Authority
with his Daughter, and
make her more pliant to his Love;
or that all who belong’d to her,
should feel the weight of his Anger,
and know how fatal the
Consequence should be in case she
refus’d, and did not come willingly
into his Arms; he had left off
his Addresses to her, after having
found her impregnable, and waita
while for an Answer from Maolseachelvin.

Some days pass’d and the unfortunate
Dooneflaith began to
entertain hopes that the Tyrant
had quitted his Suit, and that
her ill usage of him had banish’d
his Love; she had now time enough
to bewail her Misfortunes, and
miss’d not a Day, in which she
went not to the Grove in the
Garden to ease her sorrowful
Heart by Complaints. One Day
among the rest, she was got into an C9r 41
an Arbour, where having wearied
her self with her Grief, soft
slumbers seal’d up her Eyes, and
laid her to Sleep, and in her
Dreams she imagin’d she saw
Murchoe all bloody come into her
Room, and give her a thousand
Reproaches of being unfaithful;
then pulling a Sword from under
his Robe, he would have pierc’d
his own Breast; at the sight
whereof, Dooneflaith started out
of her Sleep, in such an Agony,
that she was not her self in an
hour or two after. But having
well consider’d ’twas only a
Dream, and the Fancy of her
Distemper’d Brain, she fell to
complaining again.

“Oh! merciless Powers,” said
she, “how long will you make
me the Mark of your Anger?
why, O relentless Heav’ns! are
you so Cruel! Oh ease me of my
Misery, or Life! For what unknown“known C9v 42
Offence do you afflict
me thus? Thus Rack and Torture
one, who always to the
utmost of her Power, has been
Obedient to your holy Wills!
which even now, amidst this
Mass of Woe, I willingly submit
unto! All I request, is but
one farewell sight of him I love
next to your selves; let him but
once more bless my Eyes, and I
shall die contented.”

No sooner had she utter’d these
words, but she saw at the entrance
of the Arbour, one in a Womans
Dress, who at first view she knew
not; but recollecting her self, she
perceiv’d to be Murchoe. “Thanks,
bounteous Heaven,”
said she, “now
my Prayers are heard, this
Charitable Act has cancell’d all
your former Cruelty; wellcome
my Love,”
says she, running to
take him in her Arms; but how
was she surpriz’d to see him shun her C10r 43
her soft Embraces! and stood gazing
on her, as tho’ he had never
seen her before. “Ah! Murchoe,”
says the charming Maid, “is it
thus you requite all my Sufferings?
Can my Embraces be
thought troublesome! or sure I
do mistake, and this is not my
Love, but some illusion that
does wear his Face, and come to
mock my Miseries.”

Murchoe was so astonish’d at
his suddain Happiness, that he
could scarcely believe what he
heard, or saw; and Dooneflaith
was so much alter’d with her
continual Pineing and Grief, that
he scarce knew her: But his Senses
assuming their former strength,
he ran to her, and fell at her feet,
where he vented such a flood of
Tears, and so many Sighs, that
he was not able for some time to
utter one word, while the passionate
Dooneflaith, fearing he was grown C10v 44
grown unkind, or jealous, fell
down by him in a Trance.

Murchoe, not minding where
he was, and what hazard he ran
of discovering himself, and consequently
of losing his Life, call’d
out for Help, naming himself a
thousand times over, to have been
the unfortunate fatal Cause.

“Oh! Murchoe, Murchoe,” said
he, “what hast thou done? Oh!
I cou’d stab my Heart, tear all
my Limbs, and gnaw my very
Flesh, for being thus rash!
Cursed be my Life, and blasted
be my Hopes, which thus have
made me take on his Disguise,
O Dooneflaith, my lovely Dear,
my charming Saint look up,
look up, thy Murchoe calls;
more miserable now than are
the wretched Damn’d! Oh ye
Inhabitants above, look down,
and lend your aid; recall the “part- C11r 45
parting Life of her whose Loss
will make this Kingdom Poor.”

Dooneflaith by this time coming
to her self again, gave him
a Sign that she liv’d by a Groan.
“O blessed sound,” said he, “what
Musick dost thou make in my
Heart! such a sad accent coming
from my Love, at any
other time, wou’d rend my very
Soul; but now since ’tis the
Messenger of Life, ’tis more
Melodious than the Songs of
Angels are; repeat it once again,
and bless my Ears.”
“—Ha!”
says Dooneflaith, “where am I?
What super-Officious Hand
hath brought me back to Life!
What more than savage Beast,
could be so cruel to awake me
from my long Eternal Sleep.”

But opening her Eyes and seeing
Murchoe, she alter’d her Note,
and gave Heav’n a thousand thanks
for their Kindness, and ask’d him C11v 46
him forgiveness for what she had
said.

He had yet no power to Answer,
nor wou’d his Kisses permit
her to finish what e’er she
began, and to their mutual Content
and Satisfaction, they spent
some time in the silent Oratory of
their Eyes, where each so feelingly
did tell such Stories, as Words
cou’d ne’er express. Murchoe was
the first who broke silence, and
return’d her a million of Thanks
for the interest she had taken in
all that he suffer’d, they made a
thousand new Protestations of Loving
till Death, and gave each
other firm assurances of future Fidelity.
They were parting, with
Promises to see each other as often
as they could when Maolseachelvin
her Father enters, taking
Murchoe, (not minding his Face,
which he took care to conceal,) for
one of his Daughters Women, let him C12r 47
him pass by without the least suspicion.

Maolseachelvin told Dooneflaith
that she must prepare, for in
three Days he had promis’d Turgesius
to send her unto him, accompany’d
with fifteen other
Virgins, as a Victim to allay the
Fury, that her Obstinancy, and
Murchoe’s Treachery had rais’d
in his Breast. He stay’d not to
receive any Answer, but went
forwards to perfect the Walk he
intended, and to think of the Project
that was working in his
Brain.

No sooner was he out of sight,
but the afflicted Dooneflaith betook
her to the Arbour again, and
throwing her self on a Bank, she
vented her Sorrow in this manner.
“Oh Cruel, Barbarous Father,”
said she, “and have you at
length consented to a separation “twixt C12v 48
’twixt me, and my Murchoe, to
become the Wife of Turgesius.
But that, I can easily hinder.
Besides, he has Sworn he will
never Request it, but by my
permission, which I will sooner
grant to Furies to hurry me to
Hell. No, inhuman Parent,
tho’ you and all the World
wou’d grant me His! yet if
none else will, Death shall forbid
the Banes. But if forgetful
of his Oaths, he forces me
to Wed him, ev’n in the Tyrant’s
sight, I’ll Pierce my Heart,
and spurt the reaking stream full
in his hated Face.”

Murchoe having seen Maolseachelvin
quit his Daughter, and
observing her to retire back into
the Arbour, follow’d after her, to
enquire what her Father had said.
But in what a Consternation was
he? when, as he entred, he beheld
her tearing her lovely Hair, and imprint- D1r 49
imprinting the marks of her Rage
on her beautiful Face, and giving
such stroaks on her tender Breast,
as were enough to force Life from
its seat. Murchoe ran to her, and
put a stop to her Hands, which
surely else had ruin’d so much
Beauty, as none but she could ever
boast of. “Oh! unkind Dooneflaith,”
said he to her, “what new
affliction has befall’n my Love?
that thus she seeks to spoil the
fairest Temple, Beauty ever
fram’d.”
“Oh Murchoe,” replies
the despairing Dooneflaith, “leave
me to my self, my Griefs are
catching, and with its black
Contagion will infect thy Soul;
Heaven has not yet left pouring
down its Wrath, and what alone
was meant for me, may
fall on you; the Gods above
have mark’d me out a Subject
for their utmost Cruelties! My
Father,—Oh, I blush to call D “him D1v 50
him so, forgetting me, forgetting
Honour and himself, has
giv’n me o’er into the Tyrant’s
Hands; but Three Days time I
have allow’d to mourn the loss of
thee my Love, and everlasting
Happiness.”

“How short,” says Murchoe,
“and fading are poor Lover’s
Joys? For but some Moments
since, I thought my self in
Heaven, and whilst infolded
in my Dooneflaith’s Arms, I
thought no Misery cou’d e’er
approach me! Then what a
Fall is here, flung down at
once from that stupendous
height, and dash’d in pieces in
the lowest Hell. Oh Maolseachelvin,
whither is all thy Glory
fled? How canst thou condescend
to give this Gem to one
who knows not half the value
of it.”

While D2r 51

While they were thus condoling
their hard fortune, and saying
all the soft things Love could
inspire them with, Moalseachelvin
returns, and hearing his Daughter’s
Voice in the Arbour, enter’d,
and found our Lovers Arm in
Arm, in which posture they had
resolv’d to end their Lives together,
and never part, but go
Hand in Hand to Death: Which
had not her Father entred, and
snatch’d the Dagger out of Murchoe’s
Hands, had been effected.

Murchoe seeing Maolseachelvin,
could not forbear discovering himself
to him, and giving him a
thousand Reproaches for yielding
to the Tryant’s will. Maolseachelvin
was amaz’d to find him in
Company with his Daughter, and
in such a Dress; but having resolv’d
with himself what to do,
he thought it but Wisdom to conceal
it till some fitter Season. D2 Where- D2v 52
Wherefore not minding what Murchoe
said to him, he ask’d his
Daughter, if she had consider’d
well of what he had told her.

“Most Honour’d Sir,” reply’d
the weeping Dooneflaith, “can I
admit such Thoughts as those;
your self, nay Heav’n must
Curse me if I do! What, Wed
a Tyrant! one whose wicked
Hands have ransack’d all our
Holy Temples, demolish’d all
our Altars! burnt all our Churches,
and raz’d our Monasteries,
Ravish’d our Nuns, slain
our Pious Priests, and thrown
the very Sacred Host it self to
the Dogs; whose Tyranny has
Murder’d our Nobles, and fir’d
our Towns and Cities! Can
such an one be thought a Match
for her, whom you with Pious
Care have taught to hate! Oh!
rather, Sir, (upon my Knees
I beg it) take back this wretched“ched D3r 53
Life you once bestow’d
me.”

“No, Daughter,” answers Maolseachelvin,
“’tis not to be his
Wife (for that’s a Name which
blasts the Lover’s Joys) he’d
have you only for his Concubine,
use you a while, and then
return you back, you have taken
Care he ne’er shall be your
Husband, by the Oaths you’ve
made him swear, and in Revenge,
he is resolv’d to have
you—his Mistress,”
reply’d Dooneflaith
hastily, “Oh! Heavens,
my Father sure is Mad; his
Reverend Heart o’er-laden
with its Fears, has banish’d
Sense from thence! What, be
the Tyrant’s Mistress! You cannot
sure have such a thought as
that! you say but this to try
my Resolution! O, have some
pity on your wretched Daughter,
add not more misery unto D3 “my D3v 54
my troubled Breast, already
over-burden’d with my Woes.”

Maolseachelvin could hardly refrain
from Tears, to see the sad
Condition his Daughter was in;
however he goes on, and laid before
her the Power of Turgesius,
and that if she did not willingly
consent, he would have her by
force. “Think,” says he to her,
“how you cou’d endure to see a
loving Father Murder’d before
your Face; for that and more
he swears to do, if you consent
not to his Love; he vows when
he has had his Will, which
all the Powers above he is resolv’d
shall not hinder, he’ll give
your Body to the vilest Danes,
and let the meanest Soldiers use
you as they please. Then think
again, how happy thou may’st
live, how High and Glorious
sit on Ireland’s Throne, if by “your D4r 55
your Love you sooth this Mighty
Monarch.”

Murchoe who all this while stood
Thunder-struck to hear these impious
urgings of her Father,
cou’d no longer forbear uttering
his Mind, with Eyes sparkling
with Anger, he stept up to him.
“And can Maolseachelvin,” says
he, “then become so base? Can
he, whom Ireland’s Hopes are
fix’d upon, degenerate from his
Vertuous Noble Ancestors, and
from a Prince, become a Bawd!
unheard of Wickedness, a Pander
to his Child! ’Twill cancel
all my former thoughts of
Vertue, and make me think
thou never didst beget her; for
surely such a pure untainted
stream cou’d never rise from
so impure a Spring! Or were
you ten times over her Father,
if it were possible, she
shou’d not now obey; I with D4 “these D4v 56
these Hands wou’d sooner give
her Death my self.”

“No, Ambitious, Vain-glorious
Boy,”
answers Maolseachelvin,
“it is not in thy Power to give
her Death, or save thy Life—”

So calling to two young Gentlemen,
who waited without, and
whom he had won to his Purpose,
and had promis’d in all
things to follow his Directions,
he commanded them to lay hold
on Murchoe, and then went on.
“Now see rash Youth,” says he,
“how Fatal ’tis to play with
Thunder, whose Bolt has fallen,
and crush’d thee to the
Earth; I’ll send thee bound in
Chains along with her, which
Act will doubly gain Turgesius’s
Heart,”

Dooneflaith seeing them seize
on Murchoe, ran to him, and taking
hold of his Arms, would
have stop’d him; but her Father loosing D5r 57
loosing her hold, she fell upon her
Knees, and, with a Torrent of
Tears, besought him to save the
Life of Murchoe. “Do with me,”
says she, “what you please, give
my unspotted Honour to the
Tyrant’s Lust, Brand me with
Infamy, but save this Noble
Youth.”

“Yes, Mistress,” answers her
Father, “your Honour is unspotted,
when in your Arms I
found the lusty Lover; for thy
sake only, tis he now shall die.”

“O Good Gods!” (cries out Dooneflaith)
“where shall the Innocent
fly for Refuge, if you neglect
protecting them? Am I
the wretched Cause that he must
bleed? Oh! Heavens, I thought
it was not in your Power to add,
to what I felt before; but now my
misery is doubled on me. Oh!
dearest Father have you quite D5 “forgot D5v 58
forgot all pity, abandon’d all
remorse? Can you suspect me
guilty of so foul a Crime, and
let me breath? I that till now
you always counted good! Witness
ye all-knowing Powers how
guiltless I am of this blasting
Calumny; by all that’s Holy,
Just and Sacred No Lustful Heat e’er warm’d my
Virgin Breast;
Bate but that Thought, and I’ll
forgive the rest.

Then look upon his Youth,
his hopeful, Noble Youth, and
pity his Misfortunes; he knows
no Sin, unless vertuous Love be
such. O dearest Father, I conjure
you save his Life, by all
the Charms which Honour can
inspire; by my dear Mothers
Soul, by all your hopes of Ireland’s
Future Happiness, and “by D6r 59
by the Glory you shall win by
this good Deed, release him
strait, let not me beg in vain,
you was not us’d to see me thus
in Tears upon my Knees, and
yet refuse to grant me my Request.”

Murchoe seeing Maolseachelvin
so obdurate to all her Intreaties,
fell likewise on his Knees. “Behold,”
said he, with Tears, “the
humble Murchoe suppliant at
thy Feet, who begs not to preserve
his Life, but your dear
Daughter’s Honour, send her
away, and lay the blame on
me, I’ll own ’twas I, who bore
her from his Arms; then to appease
his Wrath, let me be sent
unto him, I’ll willingly endure
his utmost rage, and count my
Life well spent to save her Virtue.”

“Oh! no, dear honour’d Sir,”
says Dooneflaith, “first send me D6 “to D6v 60
to his Arms, where you will only
lose a Woman’s Life, my Vertue
cannot suffer so long as there
are means to stop my breath; or
when the Letcher comes all
fir’d with Lust, I’ll cool his
Veins, by letting forth his blood,
or at the worst, I’ll drown
him in my own.”

Maolseachelvin could no longer
hold out; but running first to his
Daughter, then doing the like to
Murchoe, he took them both into
his Arms, and wept a flood upon
their Necks. “Right virtuous
Pair,”
said he, “whom Heaven
has sent to make me happy in
my latter days, my loving Children
both; forgive the Tryal I
have made; Now witness for me
all ye bless’d above, I hold ye
equally as dear as Life, as Honour,
or my precious Soul; and
since I find so well you Love
each other, curs’d be that Man “who D7r 61
who would untie this Knot:
Now wipe your Tears away as
I do mine, tho’ sprung from
different Causes; yours, from
your Sorrows, mine, from mighty
Joy; stifle your Grief, as I
conceal my Vengeance. Make
thee his Mistress—Now Heaven
forgive me, if I would not
sooner damn than harbour such
a thought; I for my dear lov’d
Daughter’s honour, would set
at nought my sweet immortal
Soul. No, Dooneflaith, no,
Generous Murchoe, I have so
contriv’d it, she shall be sent to
him, and as he writes to me here”

(shewing them the Letter willingly,)
“has also commanded
me to send him Fifteen young
Virgins of our Noblest Blood,
to slake the burning lust of his
Chief Officers, I’ll send them
too. But since so well thy Womans
Dress becomes thee, thou shalt D7v 62
shalt be one, and Fourteen
Youths, as Bold and Valiant as
thy self shall go, all clad
and dress’d like thee, with each
a Sword beneath their Gowns.
I have sent to those who have
taken shelter in the Woods,
Mountains, and Boggs, to be
in readiness, and have a Thousand
Men, who at the Signal
given, shall fall upon his Guards.
Letters already I have dispatch’d
to every City in our Country,
to bid them Rise on such a
Night.

When you are entred, and
they all deep in Wine, frolick
and gay, their Bloods all boyling
hot, secure each one his Officer
by Death, I’ll trust my
Daughter with the Tyrant’s
Fate; strike home my Girl,
and dip thy Dagger to the Hilt,
then let him take his fill of
Love, Caress and Court thee then. D8r 63
then. But now we must disperse;
and you, Murchoe till
after to Morrow, which is the
appointed Day, shall lie conceal’d
in my House; these Gentlemen
who are my trusty
Countrymen, and well approved
Friends, shall forthwith to the
scatter’d Irish, and get ’em to
an Head, then lead them like a
Torrent on our Foes.”

They all swore Secrecy, and
departed, only Dooneflaith and
Murchoe were not separated till it
was late, but went together into
her Chamber, where, to their inexpressible
satisfaction and mutual
joy, they Supp’d together, and
passed away the hours till Bed-
time, then Murchoe was Conducted
into an Apartment by himself,
where he spent that Night
on the thoughts of the past Days
Adventures, and the important Affairs D8v 64
Affairs they were to perform in a
short time after.

The next Morning Maolseachelvin
sent a Messenger to Turgesius,
promising according to his
Commands, that he had won on
his Daughter to obey him; and
that as he hop’d for his Kingly
Favour hereafter, he would not
fail upon the Morrow Night to
send her, accompany’d with Fifteen
Virgins more, who were also
willing to run the same Fate,
and participate of the Joys their
Mistress should receive in so splendid
an Entertainment.

Turgesius was almost ravish’d
with this News, for certainly no
Man ever lov’d, or rather lusted
to the degree he did; he was resolv’d
to have lost the whole Kingdom
but he would enjoy her; his
eager Joy sat heavy on his Heart,
for Love is most impatient on
Crown’d Heads. But finding her come D9r 65
come thus easily, he spar’d not
for any thing that might make
her Reception Magnificent. He
sent for Fifteen of his Chiefest
Commanders, and told them what
a Treatment he had for them. In
short, the whole Court was almost
new model’d, the Rooms adorn’d
with Rich Beds, and the most
Costly Hangings.

Never was Palace so galantly
set out with Gold, Jewels, and
Tapestry as this, not any thing
below the Dignity of Silver, and
that curiously wrought and Massive,
was us’d in any of the
Chambers; Cloth of Tissue was
the meanest Furniture they had;
the Candlesticks were Gold; so that
all the Wealth those Sacrilegious
Danish Heathens had despoil’d
the Churches and Monasteries of,
with all the Plunder they had taken
at Sacking of Towns, and
King’s Courts, were all now brought D9v 66
brought to this Palace; so that it
might be said, That one Spot of
Ground, held more Wealth than
all Ireland besides.

Nor were the Wines but of the
Richest, and all the variety of
Viands which could be procur’d,
were sent for to this Place, and
every one was employ’d in some
Office or other; and the King,
with his Commanders almost Mad
for the arrival of the happy Night,
their longing impatience thought
that almost an Age, which was
only but twenty four Hours.

The Hour at length arriv’d,
and Dooneflaith set out with a
Noble Train of suppos’d young
Virgins, whereof Fifteen of them
were of the most Handsome, and
yet most Stout and Resolute
Youths of Ireland, as well and
gloriously Dress’d as Hands, Jewels,
and Art could effect it; each
having one or two others to attend him D10r 67
him as his Servant, or Waiting-
Woman, in the same Female Apparel,
and each a short Sword under
his Gown.

Turgesius went about a Mile
out of his Court to meet them,
as soon as he had news of their
approach, accompanied with Fifteen
of his Choicest Commanders,
some whereof he had sent for
out of strong Cities wherein they
Commanded, who also had with
them an equal Train of Attendants.

The first interview of the two
Parties, was such a Sight as might
have equal’d, if not exceeded,
that of Alexander, when he met
Thalestris and her Amazons upon
the Banks of the Euphrates.

It seem’d as tho’ Mars himself
had led the Van of all the other
Gods, to meet with Venus and the
Female Deities.

Turgesius D10v 68

Turgesius, and all who follow’d
him, quite forgetting their Grandeur,
and Martial Habitude, descended
from their shining Gilded
Chariots, and went to those of
the Ladies. Nor had Maolseachelvin
spar’d Cost to make his
Daughters Equipage more Magnificent
and Glorious than any that
Ireland had seen before, especially
that of the Charming Dooneflaith,
which was so Richly Furnish’d,
that at a distance in the glittering
Sun-beams it was too Glorious to
be lookt upon, and struck a sort
of Blindness in the Spectator’s
Eyes who beheld it. She was
drawn by six milk white Horses,
Caparison’d with Trappings of
Gold. and the Chariot wherein
she rode was open, having Rich
Embroider’d Curtains held up by
young Cupids, who seem’d well
pleas’d and smiling at the Deity that D11r 69
that they attended; nor were the
others much less sumptuous.

In short, who e’re had been to
see the first Greeting, could not
but have been astonish’d at so Noble
a Sight. Turgesius, (as tho’
he had long practis’d the Art
of Love) so behav’d himself, that
even Dooneflaith was mov’d with
Compassion, at the great Action
she was to perform. However,
she seem’d as eager to receive his
Caresses, as if she had met with
the Man whom her Soul ador’d.
After some few Compliments
had pass’d on either side,
(the Women having by this time
alighted to meet the Men) they
all mounted again, the Monarch
taking Dooneflaith into his own
Chariot, and the other Commanders
following his Example,
did the like with those who came
with her.

And D11v 70

And now being Pair’d they set
forward for the Court; all the
way that they rode, they were
diverted by Trumpets and WindMusick,
which in their turns
made a Seraphick Harmony. But
that which most of all Charm’d
the Ears of the Warriours, were
the soft and melting Expressions
the counterfeit Ladies did use;
which were so ravishing and tender,
that not one of Turgesius’s Train
but could willingly have wish’d
to have pass’d by the Ceremony of
Supping, and have gone immediately
to their Chambers; even
Turgesius himself thought the time,
tho’ spent in his Mistresses Company
but irksome and long, so
eager was he to have the sweet
Charmer in his Embraces.

But Supper being ended, the
description whereof, would but
delay the recital of things more mate- D12r 71
material, they prepar’d for their
Beds, and Dooneflaith was led
up by the suppos’d Maidens who
came with her to the Chamber
that was assign’d for the Monarch;
He being impatient for
the dear happiness his Soul so
much long’d for, thought them too
tedious in undressing her, and
putting her to Bed; being no
longer able to defer the happy
moment, disarm’d himself below,
as all the rest of the Commanders
did, laying their Arms on a
Table in the great Hall, went
each to his Chamber, expecting
the coming of Her he had chose.
But Turgesius no sooner entred his
Room, for he came alone, than
he was seiz’d on, and immediately
gagg’d, that no out-cry
might be made; they had certainly
kill’d him, had not Murchoe
interceeded; who told him he
now paid him back a Debt that he D12v 72
he ow’d him, ever since he was so
generous to save his Life formerly
from the outrage of his Soldiers
and Guards, who were ready to
have cut him in pieces, when he
fought with him in Dooneflaith’s
Apartment; in retaliation of
which, he wou’d now save his
Life from the threatning Swords
of those who justly thirsted for
his Blood.

Turgesius was not a little surpriz’d
at the unlook’d for Adventure;
but above all, at the gallant
Generosity of his Noble Enemy,
and incens’d Rival, he would
have made him such an Answer as
suited the greatness of the Act,
had he had the liberty of speaking.
But now his Heart was so
troubled at the loss of Dooneflaith,
and all his ravishing hopes
were so blasted, that Life to him
was but an unnecessary thing;
he began tho’ too late, to think how E1r 73
how dearly he must pay for his
Lust, and how pompous the Solemnity
had been made for the
bringing on his utter Destruction.

The thoughts of the loss of a
Crown, came crowding upon
him, and he could not but be
sensible what a lasting Infamy this
Action must lay on his blind and
inconsiderate Credulity. How
would he, in his Mind, Curse the
time that he first saw that Charming
Seducer, and now beheld
her with more Detestation and
Horror, than heretofore he had
done with Love and Pleasure.

But we must leave him to himself,
and return to the rest, who
(after the seizing Turgesius) had
no better success than their King,
unless ending a miserable Life
might be accounted some mitigation
of their Misfortunes. The
Signal was presently given out of E the E1v 74
the Court Windows to the small
Army that Maolseachelvin had
brought to the Gates, and all
those Attendants and Servants
who came with his Daughter,
were in a readiness to give the
Onset to those in the Palace.

Turgesius and his Train no
sooner rose from the Table, but
the inferior Commanders and Officers
were set down to it; each
with one of those under Women
who came with Dooneflaith; the
Bowls of Wine were going merrily
about, and the Danes (who
are potent in Bacchus’s Battles)
were too busie, and the Musick
too loud to let them hear
Maolseachelvin, when with his
Arm’d Men he forc’d his way into
the Palace; and they were
greatly surpriz’d when they saw
a whole Band of stout Irish-men
well Arm’d enter the Hall.
It was now no time to demand what E2r 75
what they meant; for e’er they
could scarce turn about to see
who they were, they met with
their Fate,.

A greater Confusion was never
seen, the Tables were all overthrown,
and the Blood of the
Danes, with that of the Grape,
promiscuously mingled, made
a purple Deluge on the Floor;
nor was there a Dane that Night
in the Court, who found not his
Death, except Turgesius the Tyrant,
who was reserv’d for a
more ignominious and miserable
End.

Nor had this Great Undertaking
any worse success in the other
parts of Ireland; for those
Towns and Cities whose Governours
were slain at the Feast
(more bloody than that of the
Centaurs) hearing of the loss of
their Commanders and their King,
lost with them their Courage, and E2 yielded E2v 76
yielded an easie Victory to the
brave Irish, who in a short time
after, releas’d the whole Kingdom
from the slavish Tyranny of the
Danes, to their Lawful Subjection
under a Monarch of their own,
which was by the consent of the
Nobles plac’d on Maolseachelvin,
for the gallant Exploit he had
done, for then their Monarchs
were Elective, and with good
reason the Choice fell on him.

Now the Irish had thrown off
the Danish Yoak, and were again
at Liberty, each enjoying the benefit
of Peace, which was introduc’d
by a most bloody and furious
War. Nor was there a Dane
left in the whole Country, but
such who they us’d as their Slaves,
and put to mean Offices; and
those who were before so busie
in demolishing and burning of
Churches and Monasteries, were
now employ’d either as Smiths, Carpen- E3r 77
Carpenters, or Masons, in their
Re-building, and the ChurchLands
were all restor’d to their
proper uses. The Lay-Abbots
whom the Danes had plac’d there,
were cast out of the Cloisters and
slain, and the whole Kingdom began
once more to Flourish in
Christianity, and was establish’d
in the true Worship of God.

It is necessary, e’er we proceed
any farther, to give a step back,
and see what became of our Lovers,
and the depos’d Usurper;
who, some time after his Defeat,
was led about the Streets, thro’
which so often he had rode in Splendor
and Triumph, now Manacled,
and loaden with Chains, and became
a scoff and derision to those,
o’er whom so lately he Triumph’d,
and in this Condition (with a
shouting throng of the Vulgar)
was he conducted to the River
Laugh-Ainme, into which he was E3 cast, E3v 78
cast, and finish’d a burthensom
Life, by being their drowned.

Our two Lovers, had now, as
they thought, no other Obstacle,
but the consent of Bryan Boriamhe
Father to Murchoe, who they
hop’d would agree to their
Marriage. The Valiant Murchoe
in that Night’s great Action, having
shifted his Womans Apparel,
put on the more becoming one of
Arms, and flew like Lightning to
assist his Country-men, leaving
the care and safeguard of Dooneflaith
to her Father, and it was
some days e’er he return’d, but
to his great misery; for now
Maolseachelvin having the prospect
of a Crown in his sight, and
having stomach’d Bryan’s denial
of their Marriage before, was
firmly resolv’d that interest should
not bring him to consent to it
now. Wherefore going to his
Daughter, and taking her into his E4r 79
his Closet, he Commanded her on
her Duty, no longer to think of
her Lover; but when Murchoe
return’d, to use him as one who
was most indifferent to her.

“Oh! dearest Sir,” says Dooneflaith,
“can what you say be
true? Can he who sav’d my
Honour, and redeem’d his
mourning Country be thus hardly
us’d by me!”
“He save thy
Honour, and redeem his Country”
(replies her Father in an angry
tone) “did you your self, did
I, and all the rest of the brave
Princes of this Land, do nothing?
Hear what I say, and
for your life obey me, for what
I have design’d, no Prayers, or
Charms, tho’ drest in the best
Garb of Eloquence, adorn’d with
all the Tears and taking Looks
thy Beauty can put on, tho’ on
thy Knees thou follow’st me about,
thou shalt not shake or E4 “move E4v 80
move my fixt resolve. If when
Murchoe shall return, with eager
Joys to run into thine Arms,
with frowns and scorns avoid
his soft Embraces, give him no
Answer, but disdainful Looks,
or here I swear I’ll stab him before
thy Face.”

“Oh! Reverend Sir,” says Dooneflaith,
“recal that cruel Oath;
how can you think this Heart,
that is all Love, all soft and
tender to the noble Murchoe,
can teach my Face to put on
such disguise! Cou’d I consent,
to shew my Filial Duty, and
obey, my Eyes would soon betray
my Heart; and tho’ my
words were cold and all unkind,
yet they would shoot such fiery
Darts, as would declare they
were but counterfeit; my very
Eyes, spight of my best efforts,
would talk and tell the tenders
of my Soul; each interrupting sigh E5r 81
sigh I give, will bear no consort
with my Tongue.”

“By Heaven” (says her Father)
“do as I command, shew but one
amorous glance, one heave, one
pant, or sigh, and I will blind
those tell-tale Eyes of thine, and
give thee truly cause to sigh, by
giving him his Death.”
“Sure,
Sir,”
(replies the weeping Dooneflaith)
“you cannot mean the
thing you speak! You say it but
to try my Love a second time;
which by the Gods is still the
same it was, when in the Garden
you made the former Test.”

“No, Minion,” says Maolseachelvin,
“I do it not to try thy
Love, which I’m too sensible is
true; I do it to revenge his Father’s
Scorn, who would not
give consent that he should
Wed thee when I was a private
Man, nor shall he now I’m E5 “King; E5v 82
King; therefore once more observe
what I command.”

“And must the innocent Murchoe,”
says she, “who always dearly
lov’d me, and sought not
Heaven with more earnest Prayers
than he sought me, be punish’d
thus for his unkind Father’s
Fault? Oh! Sir, reverse
your cruel Doom, if not for his
sake, yet for mine, nay for your
own; for if I share an interest
in your Heart, ’twill grieve you
sure to see your only Daughter
die, when with one word you
may preserve her Life. What!
quit my Love, now after this
Misery and Trouble we have
pass’d through for it! now grow
unkind, when he most merits
Love! and after all those Sacred
Oaths and Vows, those thousand
Protestations, which even
in your hearing, I have made to “Love E6r 83
Love him ever, now to re-call
that sacred Breath, and hurl
damnation on my perjur’d
Soul.”

“I ask you not,” says he, “to
break your Vows; but meet him
as I now command you, that his
proud Father may be humbled,
and fall a low Petitioner for the
Love he once rejected.”

“A thousand Blessings sit upon
your Head,”
says she, “and make
your Crown more glorious than
all your Predecessors were, those
healing words have cur’d my
bleeding heart; now I will call
you dear and loving Father,
kneel and adore the very ground
you go on; use what severity
you please against his Father,
but let my Murchoe not be put
in pain; let me not see him rather,
till his suppliant Father
begs your pardon; for certainly
to see him as you bid me, will E6 “prove E6v 84
prove so fatal, that twill break
his Heart.”

“Trifle no more” (replies Maolseachelvin)
“but punctually obey
my will, I see them yonder entring
the Court; and once more
swear, if that you fail in any
Point I have enjoyn’d you, you
ne’er shall meet him more, but
in the Grave.”

After this he left her, and went
to his own Chamber; no sooner
was he parted, but Dooneflaith
looking out at the Window, beheld
her dear Murchoe, with his
Father just entring the Palace;
and not being able to think on
the severe Injunctions her Father
had laid on her, without a
torrent of Tears, and a thousand
imprecations on her unkind Stars.
“O barbarous Father,” said she to
her self, “more Tyrannous and
Cruel to thy Child, than Savage
Monsters are to those they hate; E7r 85
hate; not see my Love, but
with disdainful looks! not give
him one kind glance for all his
Love! not one kind word of
thanks for all his pains! this
Cruelty exceeds all precedent!
my unkind Speech or Eyes will
do the fatal Work, and leave no
business for my Father’s Sword!
O that some Angel would instruct
my Love, and tell him
that my Eyes and Tongue are
Lyars, that my poor Heart bears
no consent to what they say;
tell him I am all over Love,
and that my Murchoe is more
precious to my Soul than all the
World besides.”

Murchoe, and his Father, with
several of his Friends were now
come into the outward Court of
the Palace, and casting his Eyes
up to the Window, he beheld his
adorable Mistress; who no sooner
saw him, but withdrew from the Place, E7v 86
Place, which Murchoe thought
was done to haste to him. “Oh!
Father”
(says he, almost Extasied)
“look how the Treasure of
my Soul does fly to meet my
longing Arms; now all the
Blood I’ve lost in Ireland’s
Wars, will largely be Rewarded.”

Bryan took such part in his
Sons Transports, that he could
hardly forbear shedding Tears of
Joy. But Murchoe lest he should
be out-done in kindness, made
what hast he cou’d into the House,
and at the end of the Hall beheld
his fair Dooneflaith, whom he
ran unto with all the speed his
Love could make. “Oh! thou
charming, soft and lovely Maid,”

said the transported Murchoe,
“let me upon thy tender Breast
breath the soft languishments
of my o’er flowing Joy!”
But
how did he start, and look amaz’d, when E8r 87
when he not only saw she met
him not half way, but shun’d his
Arms; and after a small pause,
with gazing Eyes he thus went
on.

“What, my Dooneflaith,” says
he, “are my Embraces loathsom
grown! What, dost thou turn
away the warming Sun-shine of
thine Eyes; not one kind look
to crown thy Murchoe’s Victory,
not one soft word to bid
him wellcome home!”
Dooneflaith
could no longer turn away
her Head, yet was afraid of her
Father, who through a secret
place look’d into the Hall, and
beheld her with frowns; and fearing
she should not perform what
he bid her, her Love and she
must part for ever; cast so disdainful
and scornful a look upon
Murchoe, that he clapping his
Hand to his Heart, cry’d out,
“O Gods! those cruel piercing “Eyes E8v 88
Eyes have stab’d my Soul, and
given me a death my boldest
Enemies could never do.”
Then
after a little stop, he went up to
her, and would have taken her by
the Hand, but she refus’d it him; “telling him the unkindness of her
Father had destroy’d their Loves,
and that now he had fallen
from his Promise, and had commanded
her no more to look
on him with Amorous Eyes;
in pursuance to whose will,
she did from thence forward
forbid him to visit her.”

Murchoe, during her talk stood
like one without Motion, nor had
he the power to utter one word,
till he saw her departing the Hall;
but then running ’twixt her and
the Door, he fell on his Knees,
and beg’d her for her former Love
to hear his latest words; but she
overcome with the pitiful sight,
being no longer able to look on one E9r 89
one in that woful Condition, and
one whom contrary to her will,
she her self had made so, return’d
him no Answer; but snatching
her Hand out of his, which e’er
she was aware he had seiz’d
without so much as looking back,
she went out of the Hall, and
left the Disconsolate Murchoe on
his Knees.

He continu’d in that posture
till she was gone out of sight;
then rising on his Legs again, he
drew forth his Sword, and had
ended his Life on its Point, had
not his Father, and Friends
(who expected no less) stept in
and prevented him. “Oh! Cruel
Father,”
say he to Bryan, this
“last unkindness, out-does all you
you have done to me before;
why would you have me live,
when Life’s so great a burden?
Were it not better I at once
gave up my breath, than live in “lingring E9v 90
lingring pain, and deal it out
by sighs!”
“O Faithless Woman,”
says he a little after, “thou abstract
of Inconstancy, where’s
now that charming Voice which
with kind Protestations swore,
Murchoe should ever be her
Souls delight; farewell, a long
and last farewell, for with your
cold disdain you’ve blasted all
my Hopes, and now no remedy
is left but Death.”

With much ado at last, they
got him home to his Chamber,
but twas not in their power to
get him to Eat, or take the least
refreshment; and it was a long
time before his Father could get
him to promise to use no violence
on himself; to which he would
never have consented, had not
Bryan told him, he would use all
his Endeavour to alter Maolseachelvin’s
Resolutions.

No E10r 91

No sooner was his Father gone
out of the Room, but he commanded
all who were with him
to do the like; and after two or
three hasty turns in the Chamber,
he flung himself on his Bed,
where he pour’d out such Tears,
such Sighs, and Complaints, that
he drew moisture from the Eyes
of all who look’d in at the Keyhole
of the Door to see what he
did. But now let us return again
to our History.

Soon after all things were settled
in Peace, the Victorious Maolseachelvin,
was as is said before,
by the Election of the Princes and
Nobility of Ireland, deservedly
made King of Meath, and then
Monarch of the whole Country;
when there arriv’d three Brothers
out of Norway, viz. Amelanus,
Cytaracus, and Ivorus, with their
Families, and great Trains, who
(in a most Amicable and Peaceableable E10v 92
manner) pretending to be
Merchants, obtain’d leave for the
better carrying on their Traffick
and Trade, to build three Cities
near the Sea side; which was permitted
them, upon Condition,
that they paid Tribute for them.
Articles of Agreement being consented
too, on both sides, they fell
to Work, and erected the three
Cities, now call’d Dublin, Waterford,
and Limrick; which they
had no sooner finished, and had
made almost impregnable by strong
Fortifications, but the Irish began
to see their Error, and now it was
that they felt the Power of an
Enemy, no less prejudicial in all
appearance, than that they had
lately subdu’d.

These Sea-port Towns giving
entrance to fresh and numerous
Fleets of Norwegians, Danes,
and Oostmans; insomuch that the
Irish were forc’d once more to have E11r 93
have recourse to their Arms. And
here it was that Maolseachelvin’s
Heart became mollified, and once
more gave consent (when the
Kingdom should be freed of its
Foes) that Murchoe should Marry
his Daughter.

The two Lovers had now admittance
to see each other, and with
a bleeding Heart the Charming
Dooneflaith made known to her
dear Murchoe the reason why she
us’d that severity to him at his
return from the former Battle:
Murchoe lov’d too well to think
any of the fault was on her side,
and was now the most happy
Man in the World. Her Father,
the King, made him his General
but the Occasion was urgent, and
he was hasted away, having scarce
time to take his Leave.

However, he had with a thousand
soft and passionate Speeches
already parted with Dooneflaith, and E11v 94
and was now come to Maolseachelvin,
who receiv’d him with all
the expressions of tenderness that
could be. “Go Valiant Youth,”
says the King to him, “go, and
return Crown’d with Laurels
of Victory; revenge the hard
Usage you have suffer’d, on
those barbarous Infidels; forgive
my Rashness, and believe
I now set no difference betwixt
thee and my own Child. No,
my dear Son, for so henceforth
I will call thee, and tho’ your
Father shun all my Advancements,
I thus will embrace his
Son. Go then, Victorious
Murchoe, Head our Men; my
chearful Soldiers long to see
their Chief, they think the time
you lose in my embraces, an
Age, in their impatience.”

“Now mighty Monarch,” says
Murchoe to him, “you show’r
such Blessings on my Head, “give E12r 95
give me such Courage, and such
Hopes, that if I Conquer not,
let me hereafter bear the Coward
brand; the Power you give
me, united with the thoughts
of my Dooneflaith, shall make
me Conqueror where e’er I go,
and sweep your numerous Enemies
from off the Earth.”

After many endearing Discourses,
Murchoe took Horse, and went
to the Army, who wellcom’d him
with loud shouts of Joy; and
where he found such Stout and
Resolute Irish-men, that whereever
he came, he carried Victory
on his Sword’s Point; while his
Father Bryan no less fearing the
loss of the Kingdom again, in the
Southern parts of the Country
did such things as would almost
seem incredible, and in a short
time was Crown’d King of Munster,
still Conquering where e’er
he went, and soon after subdu’d one E12v 96
one half of the Nation. Nor did
he put a stop to his irresistable
Force, till he was publickly Elected,
and made Monarch of all
Ireland, the Nobility and Princes
deposing Maolseachelvin, to make
way for Bryan, giving him leave
to live, which is the greatest misery
that can befall a Monarch after
the loss of a Diadem.

Bryan now being King of all
Ireland, thought himself sufficiently
reveng’d for the slights
which Maolseachelvin had put on
his Son, and commanded Murchoe
to come home to his Palace,
which then he kept at Tomond, to
the unspeakable trouble and affliction
of the two Lovers, who
now were taking, as they fear’d,
their last leaves of each other.

“Oh! my adorable Saint,” says
the afflicted Murchoe to Dooneflaith,
“how unfortunate have all
my Undertakings been! How “Cruel F1r 97
Cruel is my Fate; that now,
when I thought my Happiness
beyond the reach of any Misfortune,
I find it dash’d, by
that which I hop’d would have
been its chief stay. Now my
Dooneflaith, my miseries come
rolling upon me, and soon will
overwhelm me! Oh! insupportable
Cruelty, I must leave my
Love! leave her, (good Heavens
defend,) I fear for ever; But
witness Gods, and all you
Saints above, though absent
from my sight I’ll ne’er forget
thee; Hopes, (once to bless me
with thy sight again,) shall
buoy me up through all my Sea
of Sorrows, if my dear Love but
promise to be constant.—”

Dooneflaith could not hear him
make such a scruple, without
shewing how much it touch’d her
Heart. “Oh, cruel Murchoe!” F said F1v 98
said she, “do you take part against
me! And if I will be
constant! Barbarous doubt! have
you thus long beheld me stand
the shock of all Misfortunes,
even when Ambition, and a
Monarch’s Crown., would have
shook the most firm and constant
of our Sex; and can you
make that scruple now? If I’ll
be constant! Oh Heaven! that
If, will stab me to the Soul!
you’ve found the only means,
next to your hating me, that
could undo my peace, you almost
tear my Heart up by the
roots; what! doubt an Heart
like mine, that is made up of
nothing else but Love and Constancy!
But I forgive Thee Murchoe,
I know ’twas but the
overflowings of thy tender fear,
and the excess of a too powerful
Passion; and to confirm my “dearest F2r 99
dearest Murchoe’s Mind, bear
Witness for me now, Oh all ye
Gods, and show’r upon me all
your dreadful Vengeance, if
what I say be not sincere and
true, when in your absence I
forgot my Faith, either in
thought or deed; either for
Threats, or all the Proffers in
the World; if from this Heart
Murchoe be ever absent, then
let the Furies tear me Limb by
Limb, and Dogs and Wolves
devour my scatter’d Carcass.”

“No more,” says Murchoe, “I
believe my Saint, and ever shall
retain these precious words in
the chief Records of my memory.”
They were forc’d soon after
this to part; but with such
languishing and dying looks, as if
they ne’er should meet again:
how many times did Murchoe go
to the Door, and then return F2 again, F2v 100
again, loath to depart, printing
his soft Lips on her fair Hand,
and she as often wish’d they
might dwell there for ever; they
sighed, and wept, then wiped
their watry Cheeks, making exchange
of Hearts at eithers Eyes;
at last, as though both their words
had been prompted by one Soul,
they together cry’d, “the Gods
preserve, and ever be your Comfort.”

Murchoe having taken his leave,
went directly, but most heavily,
towards his Fathers Palace in
Tomond, call’d Cean-Choradh,
where he was welcom’d by Bryan,
and the whole Court; but
what were all the welcomes in
the World to him, since his Dooneflaith’s
Voice was wanting in
the Consort, the Musick was not
sweet or charming, he wholly
bent his Thoughts on her, and Day F3r 101
Day or Night, she was the subject
of his Mind; tho’ he was
ever accounted Devout, yet now
the welfare and happiness of his
afflicted Mistress, threw him on
his Knees almost each hour.

His Father, and the whole Court
could not but greatly wonder at
this mighty Change; he grew
Pale, neglected Meat, and Sleep,
walk’d all the Day in melancholy
places, seeking recesses, where
the hunted Beasts scarce dar’d to
enter, they were so dark and dismal;
where, with his folded Arms
across his troubled Breast, he’d
vent the Griefs which rankled at
his Heart.

Into one of these Places was it,
that his Father one day follow’d
him, and having privately listned
to his usual Complaints, when
the poor Prince had thrown himself
down, extended on a rugged F3 Rock, F3v 102
Rock, his Eyes (like Rivers which
had broke their Banks) pour’d
forth a flood of Tears, with
Groans and Sighs, which almost
rent the Vault.

“How Happy,” said he to himself,
“had Murchoe been, had
Heaven been pleas’d he should
have perish’d in his Countries Service,
his loss perhaps would
then have touch’d his Fathers
hardned Heart; he would have
then perhaps shed one Tear,
and with a sigh, have pitty’d
his untimely End: But now he
thinks I breath, he thinks I
live; when as, alas! these signs
I give of Life, are but the Tokens
of uneasie Death; for I am
Dead to all the World, insensible
of every thing, but Love;
and tho’ I move, and sometimes
walk about, ’tis but my more
substantial Ghost.—”

He F4r 103

He was going on, when Bryan
interrupted him: “What Murchoe,”
said he, “is the Cause that
thus thou spendest thy Youthful
time in Cells? Thus pine, and
like a Woman drown thy self
in Tears? Thus leave the mighty
Business of the World, and
bend thy Thoughts on a fantastick
Trifle? Thus shun thy
Friends, and seek these solitary
Shades? Rouze up, for shame,
awake thee from these Idle
Dreams; thy Father bids thee,
and a King Commands, thy
bleeding Country wants thy
aid: Ambition should methinks
inflame thy Heart, and banish
Love from that too noble Seat.
Make thy self worthy to be my
Successor; what? can the sprightly
Murchoe lie dissolving in
Tears, when all the Land is almost
drown’d in Blood? Think F4 “on F4v 104
on a Crown, think of a Monarch’s
Power, and see how
poorly Love will shew to these;
or were those out of reach, and
that thy Hopes stood not so
fair as now they do, think on
thy Honour, and thy future
Fame.”

“O sacred Sir,” replies the
Prince, “can you behold these
ruines of your Son? Look on,
and see him sink in sorrow, and
not extend a Parent’s Hand to
help him? O Sir, remember
you your self was young, Lov’d
and Ador’d, and knew no happiness
but in my Mothers sight:
I do but tread your steps, walk
in that Path which all the World
goes once; say but Dooneflaith
shall be mine, and you will raise
me unto Life again; without
Her, Honour, Titles, Power,
nay even a Crown it self, “have F5r 105
have nothing Charming in
them.”

Bryan could no longer hear
him sue in vain; but told him, if
he would take Arms, and shew
himself once more in the Field,
and, according to his wonted Custom,
come home laden with Victory,
he would so much indulge
his Love, that, if after this, he
still continued in that Humour,
he’d use his utmost Power to
make him Happy.

The Prince overjoy’d with this
Promise, went home with his Father,
and in a few days after,
Headed a brave Army against his
Country’s Enemies; Victory still
follow’d wheresoe’er he fought,
and his Courage and Conduct
were not a small cause of the Renown
and Glory that accru’d to
his Father: For ’tis Remarkable,
that Bryan Boraimh defeated the F5 Danes F5v 106
Danes and their Confederates in
Twenty five bloody pitch’d Battles;
he was accounted one of the
most Puissant and Noble Monarchs
of the Milesian Race; and
tho’ he liv’d not to see these Invaders
quite expell’d the Kingdom,
yet he fought in the last Battle,
that gave them their Overthrow;
having in his Life time reduc’d
the Kingdom (especially towards
the latter end of his Reign) to so
tranquil and quiet a State, that
Ireland was become all peaceable
and flourishing. Nor were there
to be seen any Danes, but such
who liv’d quietly under his Government,
and were either Merchants,
Handycrafts-men, or Artificers,
who had their chief Residence
in Dublin, Weixford, Waterford,
Cork, or Limerick; and
tho’ they were a considerable
Number of them, yet not so many,ny, F6r 107
nor so Potent, but that he
thought should they at any time
Rebell, he could Master them at
his Pleasure.

Murchoe seeing no Comfort accrue
to him in all this general
Joy, for he alone was excluded
the benefit of Tranquility the
whole Nation pertook, the Conquests
and Honour he won, added
more Trouble to his Soul, since
he could not yet obtain his Father’s
Consent, he avoided as
much as he could the Pleasures of
the Court, and betook himself
wholly to the Country, where,
in unspeakable Torments, he wasted
his time in Complaints. But
being one day near the House of
Maolmordh Mac Murchoe his Uncle,
whose Sister by name Garmlaigh,
Bryan his Father had Marry’d,
he thought to pass some time
in a Visit to him, and was very
kindly receiv’d.

F6 But F6v 108

But Bryan having an occasion
for Timber for the finishing some
Ships he had begun, especially
some Masts, he sent to his Brother-in-law
Maolmordh to furnish
him with them, to which he consented,
partly out of fear to deny
him, and partly for Kindred sake,
he went himself to see them cut
down, and assisted with his Men,
those who were sent for them, in
the getting them over a Mountain;
to which they say (some
difference happening amongst the
People) he put his Hand to himself,
and in the action broke off
the Gold Clasps that fastned a
rich fring’d Mantle of Silk which
Bryan had sent him. At length,
he with his Nephew Murchoe,
came to Cean-Choradh.

But no sooner did he arrive at
Tomad, and had gone to his Sister
Garmlaigh’s Apartment to give her F7r 109
her a Visit, and acquainted her
how he came to break off his
Clasps, which he desir’d her to
get mended again for him; but
in a rage she threw the whole
Mantle into the fire and burnt it,
reproaching him with meanness
of Spirit, in so unworthily subjecting
himself, and his People of
Linster, whereof he was King,
to Bryan, altho’ he was her own
Husband.

“How basely,” said she, “becomes
it the Blood which thou
sharest with me, to fear the displeasure
of any, much less one
who has made himself my equal
by taking me to his Wife?
How much below the Honour
and Dignity of the King of
Linster is it, thus like a Bondsman
or Slave, to lend thy assistance,
and like a Coward, grant
whatever he demands from thee.”

These F7v 110

These words, (tho’ at present
he made her no reply) sunk deep
in his Heart, so taking his leave
of her, he went into the Presence,
where he found a Nobleman and
Murchoe playing a Game at Chess,
(Maolmordh being touch’d to the
quick with the Reproof that his
Sister had given him, and no longer
able to stifle the sense he had
of his Fault) advis’d him who
was playing with Murchoe on some
Draught, which lost his Nephew
the Game.

Murchoe, who had not been
us’d to receive such Indignities,
(for it was done in so palpable a
manner, as he could take it for
no less) being highly displeas’d
told his Uncle Maolmordh King
of Linster, in a deriding manner,
“That if the Advice he had
formerly given to the Rebel
Danes been no worse, they had “not F8r 111
not so easily lost the Battle at
Gleaun Mama; yet notwithstanding
his mighty Policy, he
could not win them the Field.”

Maolmordh, being stung with
this jear, in a fury reply’d, “However
my Advice succeeded at that
time, the next that perhaps I
shall give to the Danes, shall
prove better to your Cost.”
So
in a discontented Humour was
departing; when the Prince Murchoe
told him; “It should never
break one moment of his Rest
to countermine what ever Projects
he could design; and withal
told him he defy’d him.”

Whereupon the King of Linster
retir’d to his Chamber, and would
not (although he was sent for by
Bryan) come down to his Supper;
but flinging himself on his
Bed, pass’d all that Night in the
extreamest anxiety of Spirit, that could F8v 112
could be imagin’d; and early the
next Morning, before any of the
Court were stirring, takes Horse,
and posts away for Linster, where
his Heart was so full (what with
the rebukes his Sister had made
him, and the defiance his Nephew
had given him) that he had no
way to ease it, but by giving, if
he could, a stint to their Insolence,
by making them to know,
that they had rouz’d a sleeping
Lyon, whose Fury and Rage
should not be allay’d by any thing
but their utter destruction.

The next day he assembles the
Chief of the Nobles, and the Gentry,
and represents to them the
Indignity that had been put upon
them in the Person of their King;
and so aggravates the Matter,
that he drew them all to his side,
and made them all on fire to revenge
it; by throwing off their Alle- F9r 113
Allegiance and Fidelity to Bryan,
and joyning their Power to that of
the Danes, and in return to the
the Challenge that Murchoe had
made him, to send him another.

Having gain’d his Designs at
Home, he flies with all speed to
Dublin, and there engages the
chief of the Danes, to send away
instantly to their Master, the
King of Denmark, for a strong
and powerful Supply to pull down
the Grandeur and haughty Pride
of Bryan, and to destroy their,
and his most mortal Enemies;
which on the word of a King,
he promis’d to perform, would
they be assistant.

While Messengers were sent
over into Denmark, he returns
Home again; where (with all the
hast he could use, and most indefatigable
pains) he prepares for a War; F9v 114
War; nor was it long e’er he
goes to Dublin again; where, at
his arrival, two of the King of
Denmark’s Sons (Carolus Knutus,
and Andreas his Brother)
Landed, at the Head of twelve
thousand Danes, which they had
brought along with them, whom
(after he had kindly receiv’d, and
refresh’d them well) he forthwith,
knowing delays in such Cases
would be dangerous, and give
his Enemies too much time to
Unite) by an Herald sends
Bryan a bold Defiance, daring
him to meet him in a spacious
Field at Clantarf, within two
Miles of Dublin.

Bryan had no sooner receiv’d
this Challenge; but (making
what speed he was able) joyn’d
together all the Forces of Munster,
Connaught, and Meath, for those
of Ulster, he sent not to them, being F10r 115
being unwilling to stay till they
should come up; and believing
he had Power enough out of those
other three Provinces to encounter
the Enemy.

The Prince Murchoe his Son
was sent to those in Meath, where
he once more got a sight of his
charming Dooneflaith, and whom
(after the success of the Battle) he
had a Promise from Bryan his Father,
that he should Marry.

Never did two faithful Lovers
meet with such Joy, and Dooneflaith
even blest the Causers of
this War, which had made her
so happy with the presence of her
dear Murchoe. Maolseachelvin,
tho’ depos’d from the Monarchy,
had great Interest in the Province
of Meath, and soon rais’d such Forces,
as perchance none else could
have done; which Bryan understanding,
made him General of that F10v 116
that part of the Army, and sent
for his Son back to himself.

But if the Meeting of this Amorous
Pair was so full of Joy
and Content, yet their Parting
was such as is not to be express’d;
they took their leaves of each
other, with such unwillingness,
and regret, that their Separation
seem’d to have rent their Hearts
asunder.

Murchoe was not altogether so
overwhelm’d as he had formerly
been, since his Hopes now stood
fair, in a few days, to Crown all
his Sufferings with the enjoyment
of his Charming Dooneflaith:
But the disconsolate Fair-One,
felt such Pangs, at his taking his
leave, as gave those who stood
by (especially her Father) cause
to suspect they were but too fatal
Omens. And he being willing
they should have all the liberty the F11r 117
the little time he had too see her,
to say what they pleas’d privately
together, he withdrew, and left
them to themselves.

Now it was that Dooneflaith
vented the tenders of her Soul in
such a manner, that Murchoe himself
could hardly stay with her,
to hear the Complaints with she
made of her hard Destiny. “Oh
Murchoe,”
said she, “you are going
to leave me for ever; I
have something here at my
Heart, that prompts my Soul
to think Murchoe will never return
to his Dooneflaith again,
my presaging Heart fore-bodes,
that the Victory which you
are going to win, will be cause
of Joy to all Ireland, but my
unfortunate self.”

Murchoe us’d all Arguments that
could be thought of, to dissipate
her Fears; “And told her, that “his F11v 118
his Courage, guarded by the
hopes of her Love, would make
him do things that should fill
the Trumpet of Fame to the
end of the World.”
“I go, my
Charming Dooneflaith,”
says he,
“to set this Kingdom in Peace
that so I with the more freedom
may quietly enjoy the
Blessing the Gods would bestow
at the end of the Conquest; and
that Ireland might be so settled,
that he no more might
have cause to quit her soft Arms
to follow the Wars.”

“Go Murchoe,” (reply’d she
with such languishing looks
and so dying a tone as almost
made him alter his firm Resolution;)
“Go and fight for thy
Country, Go and Conquer, Go
and—(I would fain say) return
again to my Arms: But—Ohflawed-reproduction1 character
something here at my Heart “will F12r 119
will not let me believe the Heavens
will make me so Happy.
No, my Murchoe, these Eyes
will never behold thee again;
and the next Embrace thou
hast, will be that cold one
of Death. Methinks I see my
dearest Murchoe, all pale and
cold, stuck through with a thousand
Darts and Arrows; his
breathless Corps spurting fresh
streams of Blood; when I, unhappy
I, come by, who am his
Murderer.”

“No more my Charmer,” says
Murchoe to her, “drive these idle
Thoughts away, they are but
Dreams which will disturb thy
Rest; I shall return, I know
it by my Heart;”
(“Oh! that I
did,”
said he to himself,) “Or say
I dy’d, I paid but Nature’s
Debt, what you and I, and all
must do at last; my Fall shall “not F12v 120
not be mean, and thousands braver
Men shall bear me Company.
Oh! Dooneflaith, what
Comfort will it be, how will
it soften Death, and blunt its
sharpest Dart, to think I die belov’d
by thee!”

While they were Embracing,
in order to Part, Maolseachelvin
came in, and told him he must
make all hast possible with his
Forces, for all the others which
they expected were come in but
his.

The Prince, as eager as he was
to meet his proud Challenger, and
not think of leaving his Mistress
behind; wherefore, by her Consent,
and joint intreaty, Maolseachelvin
promis’d to bring her
with him; this at last something
appeas’d the Sorrow of both; and
Murchoe, after a thousand soft
Kisses, and Embraces, and as many G1r 121
many Sighs, and Tears on both
sides, took Horse, and posted before
to his Father, and the next
day after Maolseachelvin follow’d
with his Army; and at the Rear
of that, the beautiful Dooneflaith.

In a few days after, the Armies
of the three Provinces joyn’d all
together, and march’d in good
order to the Place appointed, being
a spacious Field near Clantarfe,
call’d Magnealta, where
they beheld Maolmordh at the
Head of a vast Army; being sixteen
Thousand Danes, together
with all the Forces he could raise
in Leinster, which was divided
into three Battalions; that of
the Right Wing Commanded by
Carolus Knutus, that on the Left
by his Brother Andreas, (the
two Sons of the Danish King)
and the Main Body Maolmordh
took care of himself.

G Bryan G1v 122

Bryan drew up his Army much
after the same Order, committing
the Right Wing thereof to Maolseachelvin,
the Left he Commanded
himself; and (at the intreaty
of his Son Murchoe, that
he might oppose Maolmordh himself,
who had given him a Challenge)
the main Body was under
his Conduct.

Early next Morning (it being
Good Friday) both Armies drew
near, and after a short time the
fatal Signal was given on both
sides, never did two Armies encounter
more fiercely; the shouts
and cries, with the Thundering
noise of the Drums and,
sound of Trumpets, were enough
to rend the very Roof of Heaven.
Nor for half the Day could it be
decided upon which side hovering
Victory would light; and had
Maolseachelvin (who Headed the
Army of Meath) came up, they had G2r 123
had soon turn’d the Scale. But
he, remembring the Affront of
Bryan, who made him be Depos’d,
to make way for himself,
as soon as the Signal was given,
stood off with his Men, and was
only a Spectator of the most
bloody and terrible Fight that
ever was Acted on the Tragick
Theatre of Irish Ground. Nay,
tho’ at one time he saw his own
Country-men begin to give way,
and the Danes in a probability of
winning the Day, yet did he
stand unmov’d.

Bryan who Headed the Left
Wing of the Army, being Old
(for he was now above fourscore
and eight) having to do with
Carolus, who was both Valiant
and Young, was in the Battle
struck from his Horse, and had
not Prince Murchoe come timely
to his Rescue, he had been trod G2 to G2v 124
to pieces by the Enemy; which nevertheless
so bruis’d and wounded
him, that he was forc’d to be
carry’d to his Tent, leaving the
Charge of his Army to Prince
Murchoe
.

Now was the time that he had
the whole Fate of Ireland depending
upon his Sword, he did
such wondrous Actions as surpass’d
all belief, and so bravely
behav’d himself, as tho’ he had
been some God sent down from
above. He (spight of all their
Forces, thinking of the Liberty of
his Country, and Love of his dear
Dooneflaith) made such breaches
in their Main Body, that notwithstanding
they had all the
Inspiration of Courage, that
Martial-Conduct, Ambition,
Glory, Revenge, and Despair
could afford them, yet so great
was Murchoe’s Courage, and Conduct G3r 125
Conduct so happy, that the Danish
and Leinster Forces could no
longer withstand him; having
with his own Hand first slain
Maolmordh, who was the first
occasion of this War; and then
at two several times the two Sons
of the King of Denmark; whose
Loss so disheartned the Enemy,
that they gave way, to an easie,
though dear-bought Victory; for
Murchoe being too far engag’d
among the Danish Horse, tho’
over-power’d with Number,
fought ’till he had made a Rampart
of dead Bodies about him,
which for some time secur’d him
from Fate; but an unlucky accidental
Arrow laid him dead upon
a Pyramid of his fallen Enemies.

Yet for all this, did not the
resolute Irish loose one foot of
Ground, or one bit of their Courage;G3 rage; G3v 126
but rather, spur’d on by
Revenge, made the Danes pay
dear for his Loss, and in a short
time became sole Masters of the
Field. Thus without the assistance
of Maolseachelvin, were the
Danes overcome; one whereof,
whose Name was Bruador, being
Commander of a Danish
Party, and who with his Men
flying in the General Rout, was
forc’d to take that way where
Bryan the Monarch’s Pavilion
was pitch’d; into which
(as he was passing by) he entred;
and seeing the King,
whom he had formerly known,
Bryan suspecting no such thing,
having totally gain’d the Battle,
basely Murder’d him as he lay
wounded in his Bed: But he soon
had the Reward due to so Treacherous
an Act; for he, and all
who follow’d him, were by his Guards, G4r 127
Guards, and the Pursuers, cut all
to pieces.

Maolseachelvin after this, put
in for his Share, and made himself
once more Monarch of Ireland.
Tho’ his Daughter no
sooner heard the Death of her
Lover, but as though she had
lain down to Sleep, flung her
self on her Bed, and without so
much as one Groan, Sigh, or
Murmur, she cry’d, “My Murchoe
calls me, and I must go to
him;”
so dy’d in the presence of
her Father, and the rest of the
Nobility, who had escap’d in
the Battle, for there were but
few left alive: and on the Monarch’s
Side, besides Bryan himself,
and the Renowned Prince
Murchoe
his Son, were kill’d in
this Battle, Seven petty Kings,
most of the Princes and Nobility
of Munster and Conaught, and G4v 128
and four Thousand of meaner
Degree.

But on the other side, viz.
that of the Danes and Leinster
Party, were Slain Maolmordh
Mac-Murchoe
, the King of Leinster,
who was the Original Cause
of this Slaughter, with all his
Principal Nobles, and three Thousand
Common Soldiers; together
with Knutus, and Andreas,
the two Sons of the King of Denmark,
and all their Great Commanders,
with six Thousand seven
Hundred of the New-come
Forces from Denmark, that they
had brought over with them, and
four Thousand of the old Danes,
who were, before their coming,
in Ireland. In all the Slaughter
on both Sides, that Day, amounted
to seven Thousand seven Hundred
Men, besides Kings, Princes,
Commanders, and other Noble-Men.

Some G5r 129

Some time after this Battle,
Maolseachelvin, (who now the
second time sat on the Monarchical
Throne of Ireland, and
was the last Monarch of the Milesian
Race) took Dublin, Sack’d
it, Burnt it, and Slew in it all
those Danes who had made their
escape thither from the Battle of
Clantarfe.

The next Year, in the said
Maolseachelvin’s Reign, Huaghaire
Mac-Duniling Mac Tuatil
, another King of Leinster, who
succeeded Maolmordh, tho’ of a
more Noble Race, and better Interested
for the Good of his
Country, gave a mighty overthrow,
(which was the last that
was given) to Stetirick the Son
of Aomlaibh, and the Danes of
Dublin, who after the Battle of
Clantarfe, and the Burning of
Dublin by Maolseachelvin, had once G5v 130
once more Recruited from the
Isle of Man, and other Islands,
which were yet in Possession of
the Danes, but were now totally
destroy’d throughout all Ireland.

Thus did that Warlike and Ancient
Kingdom free it self from
the Tyranny of its mortal Enemy
the Danes.

Finis.

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