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Title: Grasach Abo, or, The Cause Of Grace
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
O, Baillie Na Cortie! thy turrets are tall,
Descried from their top is the oncoming foe;
Though numerous the warriors that watch on thy wall,
Thy hope and thy trust are in Grasach Abo.
O, Baillie Na Cortie! thy chieftains abound
With courage no dangers can ever lay low;
In the day of the fight can their equals be found,
When is roared to the heaven's heights Grasach Abo?
O, Baillie Na Cortie! brave helps thou hast nigh,
Will rise at thy summons full quickly I trow;
The Shortuls, Roothes, Shees, clans so mighty and high,
Will rise on the foemen of Grasach Abo.
O, Baillie Na Cortie! thy banner shall bound
Blood red in the winds o'er the battle that blow;
When thy lion so gallant breathes terror around,
And thy soldiers are shouting out Grasach Abo.
O, Baillie Na Cortie! thy armoury boasts
The arms of great chiefs on the wall in a row;
Gilliepatrick let fall, and O More of the hosts,
When they ran in red rout before Grasach Abo.
O, Baillie Na Cortie! when blazed the bright swords,
Thy sons gave the Butlers a signal o'erthrow;
When Desmond was scattered with all his dark hordes,
He loathed the wild war whoop of Grasach Abo.
O, Baillie Na Cortie! thou needest no aid
Of strangers the day when the blood torrents flow;
The Brennaghs, Powrs, Parcels with buckler and blade,
Shall triumph and feast with the Grasach Abo.
O, Baillie Na Cortie! thy bards hope to praise
Thee, thee through long ages undarkened with woe;
And him, thy brave chieftain, his bountiful ways,
And the heroes who bleed for the Grasach Abo.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Grasach Abo Or The Cause Of Grace
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