‘In one of his ancestor’s rooms
Young Charles now sits alone
Without a spot, save those old walls,
He now can call his own:
His face is pale, his eyes are sunk
And cold and sad his heart.
Ah! had he never met his maid
They’d never have to part.
A demon of the Saxon type
The grabber of his land
Steps in and hears the youth’s sad tale
He soon his ruin planned.
He brought the stricken youth away
To where the mountains meet
‘You’re vow to her you’ll here fulfil
Just stand beside my feet’.
‘Bring your fair lady to this spot,
Be sure and mark the ground
Tell her this is a mountain top
Then bid her look around
Tell her I gave thee all this land
As far as the eye can see
But mark this spot, don’t let her move
Then from your vow you’re free.’
Too much! Too much! His brain is turned
He views the Saxon face
But in his rival’s horrid looks
No pity can he trace.
‘I’ll bring her here, I’ll bring her here
He cried, half-wild with joy
Then oh! this promise and this vow
No more my brain annoy.
‘The heartless villain smiled a smile
Of scorn, of hate, of pride
‘Ah, fool’, thought he, ‘I’ve sold thee well
She soon will be my bride’.
If this be Christian charity
Or Saxon chivalry
Don’t taint this land of saintly souls
Foul friend, away, away!
‘Tis morning and the lovely maid
Sits plaiting sweet wild flowers
She gathers them on Bavan Hills
And Aghameen’s sunny bowers.
Ah lovely maid so innocent
Thy fatal hour draws nigh
Thy hopes are past, God has a crown
Of flowers for thee on High.
Young Charles enters, wild with joy
And clasps her to his breast
‘Ah, all is yours, I promised, love
We’re both forever blest’.
His face is flushed, his eyes are wet
His actions very strange
She thinks the thoughts of coming bliss
Has caused the sudden change.
‘Oh Charles say those lands are mine
Where those sweet flowers grow
To deck the pleasant mountain tops
The mossy banks below.
Yon lovely valley and the wood
The lake so calm and still
If all are mine, ah! how I’ll love
My home on Glenmore hill!’
‘Yes, come love, come’, he cried aloud
I’ll show thee all that’s yours
My new-found friend gave all to me
The mountains and the moors.’
They go across the hills, the dew
Is shining on the grass
He brings her to the fatal spot
Within the mountain pass.
The rival stand upon a cliff
To see the lovers part:
He made the arrow and the bow
To fire the poisoned dart:
With eagle eyes he sees them stand
Upon the well-marked sod
He’s proud of doing Satan’s work
Forgetful of his God.
‘The manic turns with glassy eyes
And bids her look around
‘Love, all you see is mine – is yours’
The rocks send back the sound!
She joined her hands and raised her eyes
She sees the rocks o’erhead –
She turned around and, with a shriek
Beside his feet – fell DEAD.