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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, 1716.

Price 1s. 6d. Stitch'd, 2s. Bound.

THE Epiſtle DEDICATORY, TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE The Earl of Lincoln.

[iii]
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 [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 [v]the common Growth of this Age, which makes every Conſideration yield to the poor an 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.

[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.

[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 [viii] Italy, to Hungary; but that would be a Work of too large an Extent for the narrow Compaſs of an Epiſtle. By hinting his 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 [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 Mileſian [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 [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 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 perhaps [] [...] []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 af 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 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 was 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, and Camden do avouch for them.

[]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 Manuſcript []has it, in the Reign of Couchuvair Mac-Donochoe, that there were no leſs that 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 Foregn Parts.

And both Camden and Edmund Spenſer in his View of Ireland, 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 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 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, 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 TALES.

[1]

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 [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 [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 [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.

[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 [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 [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.

[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, [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.

[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, [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 vouchſafeing [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 [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 with-all, that you would recall the unhappy Murchoe, whom I [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 [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 [14] [...] [15] [...] [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.

[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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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.

Moalſeachelvin 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 [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, [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 [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 [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 [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 thing 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, [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 [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 from the Place in which he had over-hear'd all, and was ſo tranſported with [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 [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, [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 thy Monarch's Hands.’

Here they both engag'd in Fight, but Dooneflaith fearing [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 [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 [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, [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 [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 Father [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 wait-a 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 [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 [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 [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 [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 this 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 [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 [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 [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 Obſtinacy, 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 [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 [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 afflicton 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 [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.

[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 Tyrant'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. [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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, Genereus 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 [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 [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 Bedtime, 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 [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 [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 [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 [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.

[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, an 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 [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 reveive 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.

[70]And now being Pair'd, they ſet forward for the Court; all the way that they rode, they were diverted by Trumpets and Wind-Muſick, 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 irkſom 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 [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 Commaners 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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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, [77]Carpenters, or Maſons, in their Re-building, and the Church-Lands 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 Chriſtianty, 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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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 [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, [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 [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 [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 [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.

[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 Peaceable [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 [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, [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, [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 where-ever 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 [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 [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! [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 [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 [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 [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 [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.—

[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 [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, [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 [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, [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.

[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 [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.

[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 [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 [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 his 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 [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 [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, [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 [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 [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 which 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 [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—Oh! ſomething here at my Heart [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 [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 [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.

[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 [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 [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 [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; [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 [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, [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.

[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 [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.

Appendix A BOOKS lately Publiſh'd.

[]

EXILIUS: Or, The Baniſh'd Roman. A New entertaining ROMANCE. Written (after the manner of Telemachus) for the Inſtruction of ſome young Ladies of Quality. By Mrs. Jane Barker. containing the following Hiſtories, viz.

  • I. Clelia and Marcellus: Or, The Conſtant Lovers.
  • II. The Reward of Vertue: Or, The Adventures of Clarinthia and Lyſander.
  • III. The Lucky Eſcape: Or, The Fate of Iſmenus.
  • IV. Clodius and Scipiana: Or, The Beautiful Captive.
  • V. Piſo: Or, The Lewd Courtier.
  • VI. The Happy Recluſe: Or, The Charms of Liberty.
  • VII. The Transformation: Or, The Amours of Cordiala.
  • VIII. The Fair Widow: Or, Falſe Friend. To which is added, The Scene of Pleaſure; being the Deſcription of a Compleat Garden. Price 3 s.

The Sincere VIRGIN: Or, The Amours of Boſvil and Galeſia. A NOVEL. By Mrs. Barker. Price 1 s. Stitch'd, 1 s. 6 d. Bound.

[]HANOVER Tales: Or, The Hiſtory of Count Fradonia and the Unfortunate Baritia. Done out of French. Price 1 s. 6 d. Stitch'd, 2 s. Bound.

POEMS upon Several Occaſions. By the late Reverend Mr. POMFRET, Author of the Choice. Price 2 s.

The Adventures of RIVELLA: Or, The Hiſtory of the Author of the Atalantis; with Secret Memoirs and Manners of ſeveral Conſiderable Perſons Her Cotemporaries. With a Compleat Key. Price 2 s. 6 d.

The PETTICOAT: An Heroi-Comical Poem in Two Books. By Mr. GAY, Jun, Price 1 s.

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. Where Gentlemen and Ladies may be Furniſh'd with all the New Books, Plays, and Pamphlets that come out.

Notes
*
Bede in his Hiſt. Anglic. lib. 3. cap. 4, 5, 19. & lib. 4. cap. 25.
Camden Brittan. p. 730. Edit. Lond. in fol. anno. 1607.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5032 Irish tales or instructive histories for the happy conduct of life By Mrs Sarah Butler. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-57DD-A