WitH THE STORY TELLERS

He did not find
Much peace of mind
When this bright light he reached at last;
There was none here
To offer cheer,
Twas the big moat of Mullaghmast.
But he’ll go there
Howe’er he’ll fare
He feels too tired to further stray;
Besides the light
Seems to invite
Him to step in without delay.
With fear and awe
In there he saw
Tables that seemed for an army meant;
While troops all around
In sleep profound,
And fully armed, upon them leant.
And in the stalls
Along the walls,
Were horses standing in a line,
The intruder stept
Where a warrior slept,
Who waking asked: “Is it yet the time?”
No, no, not yet,
But don’t forget!
And then he gazed at the sinking moon—
Columbkille well
Did this foretell,
The dreadful battle begins at noon.

By that seer of old
Was this foretold,
Who did the future understand:
When a miller rose
With a hooked nose,
And with six fingers on each hand,

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