beaten back into the town, or killed on the spot by Ireton’s troopers.  The corporation and magistrates were in favour of a capitulation; but the gallant Governor, Hugh O’Neill, opposed it earnestly.  Colonel Fennell, who had already betrayed the pass at Killaloe, completed his perfidy by seizing St. John’s Gate and Tower, and admitting Ireton’s men by night.  On the following day the invader was able to dictate his own terms. 2,500 soldiers laid down their arms in St. Mary’s Church, and marched out of the city, many dropping dead on road of the fearful pestilence.  Twenty-four persons were exempted from quarter.  Amongst the number were a Dominican prelate, Dr. Terence O’Brien, Bishop of Emly, and a Franciscan, Father Wolfe.  Ireton had special vengeance for the former, who had long encouraged the people to fight for their country and their faith, and had refused a large bribe[489] which the Cromwellian General had offered him if he would leave the city.  The ecclesiastics were soon condemned; but, ere the Bishop was dragged to the gibbet, he turned to the dark and cruel man who had sacrificed so many lives, and poured such torrents of blood over the land, summoning him, in stern and prophetic tones, to answer at God’s judgment-seat for the evils he had done.  The Bishop and his companion were martyred on the Eve of All Saints, October 31st, 1651.  On the 26th of November Ireton was a corpse.  He caught the plague eight days after he had been summoned to the tribunal of eternal justice; and he died raving wildly of the men whom he had murdered, and accusing everyone but himself of the crime he had committed.

[Illustration:  Ireton condemning the Bishop of Limerick.]

Several of the leading gentry of Limerick were also executed; and the traitor Fennell met the reward of his treachery, and was also hanged.  Hugh O’Neill was saved through the remonstrances of some of the Parliamentary officers, who had the spirit to appreciate his valour and his honorable dealing.

Ludlow now took the command, and marched to assist Coote, who was besieging Galway.  This town surrendered on the 12th of May, 1652.  The few Irish officers who still held out against the Parliament, made the best terms they could for themselves individually; and there was a brief peace, the precursor of yet more terrible storms.

I have already given such fearful accounts of the miseries to which the Irish were reduced by confiscations, fines, and war, that it seems useless to add fresh details; yet, fearful as are the records given by Spenser of 1580, when neither the lowing of a cow nor the voice of a herdsman could be heard from Dunquin, in Kerry, to Cashel, in Munster, there seems to have been a deeper depth of misery after Cromwell’s massacres.  In 1653 the English themselves were nearly starving, even in Dublin; and cattle had to be imported from Wales.  There was no tillage, and a licence was required to kill lamb.[490] The Irish had fled into the mountains, the only refuge left