Remember The Glories Of Brien The Brave

By Thomas Moore

Remember the glories of Brien the Brave1,
Though the days of the hero are o'er;
Though lost to Mononia2, and cold in the grave,
He returns to Kinkora3 no more!
That star of the field, which so often has pour'd
Its beam on the battle, is set;
But enough of its glory remains on each sword
To light us to victory yet!

Mononia! when nature embellish'd the tint
Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footstep of slavery there?
No, Freedom! whose smile we shall never resign,
Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,
'Tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains!

Forget not our wounded companions who stood
In the day of distress by our side;
While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood,
They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died!
That sun which now blesses our arms with his light,
Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain!
Oh, let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night,
To find that they fell there in vain!

Notes to the poem:

1Brien Boromhe, or Boru, the great monarch of Ireland, who was killed at the battle of Clontarf, in the beginning of the eleventh century, after having defeated the Danes in twenty-five engagements.

2Mononia: Munster

3Kinkora: The palace of Brien.