Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes. Ireland: Vol. V. 187679. | | | | Argan Mór | | Argan Mór | | Thomas Davis (18141845) |
| | | THE DANES rush around, around; | |
| To the edge of the fosse they bound; | |
| Hark! hark, to their trumpets sound, | |
| Bidding them to the war! | |
| Hark! hark, to their cruel cry, | 5 |
| As they swear our hearts cores to dry, | |
| And their raven red to dye; | |
| Glutting their demon, Thor. | |
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| Leaping the rath upon, | |
| Here s the fiery Ceallachàn, | 10 |
| He makes the Lochlonnach wan, | |
| Lifting his brazen spear! | |
| Ivor, the Dane, is struck down, | |
| For the spear broke right through his crown. | |
| Yet worse did the battle frown, | 15 |
| Anlaf is on our rear! | |
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| See! see! the Raths gates are broke | |
| And inin, like a cloud of smoke, | |
| Burst on the dark Danish folk, | |
| Charging us everywhere, | 20 |
| O, never was closer fight | |
| Than in Argan Mór that night, | |
| How little do men want light, | |
| Fighting within their lair. | |
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| Then girding about our king, | 25 |
| On the thick of the foes we spring, | |
| Downdown we trample and fling, | |
| Gallantly though they strive; | |
| And never our falchions stood, | |
| Till we were all wet with their blood, | 30 |
| And none of the pirate brood | |
| Went from the Rath alive! | | | | |
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