passage (and in which the hero acts with more generosity than the Annals warrant) was written and published in the Dublin University Magazine before the appearance of Mr. O’Donovan’s “Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland,”—­the magnificent work published in 1848 by Messrs. Hodges and Smith, of this city.  For Mr. O’Donovan’s version of this passage, which differs from that of the former translator in two or three important particulars, see the second volume of his work, p. 1219.  The principal castle of the O’Donnell’s was at Donegal.  The building, of which some portions still exist, was erected in the twelfth century.  The banqueting-hall, which is the scene of the opening portion of this ballad, is still preserved, and commands some beautiful views.]

The evening shadows sweetly fall
Along the hills of Donegal,
Sweetly the rising moonbeams play
Along the shores of Inver Bay,[77]
As smooth and white Lough Eask[78] expands
As Rosapenna’s[79] silvery sands,
And quiet reigns all o’er thy fields,
Clan Dalaigh[80] of the golden shields.

The fairy gun[81] is heard no more
To boom within the cavern’d shore,
With smoother roll the torrents flow
Adown the rocks of Assaroe;[82]
Securely, till the coming day,
The red deer couch in far Glenvay,
And all is peace and calm around
O’Donnell’s castled moat and mound.

But in the hall there feast to-night
Full many a kern and many a knight,
And gentle dames, and clansmen strong,
And wandering bards, with store of song: 
The board is piled with smoking kine,
And smooth bright cups of Spanish wine,
And fish and fowl from stream and shaw,
And fragrant mead and usquebaugh.

The chief is at the table’s head—­
’Tis Con, the son of Hugh the Red—­
The heir of Conal Golban’s line;[83]
With pleasure flushed, with pride and wine,
He cries, “Our dames adjudge it wrong,
To end our feast without the song;
Have we no bard the strain to raise? 
No foe to taunt, no maid to praise?

“Where beauty dwells the bard should dwell,
What sweet lips speak the bard should tell;
’Tis he should look for starry eyes,
And tell love’s watchers where they rise: 
To-night, if lips and eyes could do,
Bards were not wanting in Tirhugh;
For where have lips a rosier light,
And where are eyes more starry bright?”

Then young hearts beat along the board,
To praise the maid that each adored,
And lips as young would fain disclose
The love within; but one arose,
Gray as the rocks beside the main,—­
Gray as the mist upon the plain,—­
A thoughtful, wandering, minstrel man,
And thus the aged bard began:—­

“O Con, benevolent hand of peace! 
  O tower of valour firm and true! 
Like mountain fawns, like snowy fleece,
  Move the sweet maidens of Tirhugh. 
Yet though through all thy realm I’ve strayed,
  Where green hills rise and white waves fall,
I have not seen so fair a maid
  As once I saw by Cushendall.[84]