EAMONN AN CHNUIC, OR "NED OF THE HILL"

"Who is that without With voice like a sword, That batters my bolted door?" "I am Eamonn an Chnuic, Cold, weary, and wet From long walking mountains and glens." "O dear and bright love, What would I do for you But cover you with a skirt of my dress. For shots full thick Are raining on you, And together we may be slaughtered!" "Long am I out Under snow, under frost, Without comradeship with any; My team unyoked, My fallow unsown, And they lost to me entirely; Friend I have none (I am heavy for that) That would harbour me late or early; And so I must go East over the sea, Since 'tis there I have no kindred!" P. H. Pearse.