LASTING and Ter­rible were the bloody Wars which the An­cient Irish sustain'd a­gainst the powerful Danes; who, by their vast Num­bers, and continual supplies of fresh Men, who Recruited them daily, and were weekly landing at one Port or other, came to their aid, they being then Masters of the Sea, so harass'd and tir'd the long defending Islanders, that at last they were forc'd to submit, and their Provincial Kings become [Page 2]for some small space of Time, Tributaries to the Dane.

Turgesius, the Danish Captain General, being a Soldier of in­vincible Courage, and no less Ambitious, made himself be stil'd Monarch of Ireland, and with a Splendid and Magnificent Train of hardy and resolute War­riors, whom Peace and Idleness, the Seeds of Wickedness, and the Mildew of Vertue had ru­sted into Courtiers, kept his Court in the center of the Coun­try, at Lough-Ribh, near that place, where now stands the Town of Athlone.

He was a Man so skill'd and train'd up in Arms, and Martial Fatigues, that had he only fol­low'd the Business he profess'd, his Conquests and Victories might have been an everlasting Theme for Ages to come; and had not his Lust like a Canker eaten away [Page 3]the Inscriptions his Sword had en­graven, his Victorious Memory might to this day have been the enduring Song of Fame.

Turgesius having subdu'd the best part of the People of this Na­tion, nay, indeed, we may say all, but a few who knew not how to bow their Necks in subjection to any but a lawful Prince, or stoop to any thing beneath their free Liberties, and Obedience to their own Kings, had betaken themselves to Boggs, Woods, Mountains, Rocks, and inaccessible Places; whose Wisdom and Con­duct being back'd with an inimi­table Valour, in a few Weeks wrought out their own Infran­chizements, and broke the servile Bonds, in which their fellow Irish were enslav'd, notwithstanding the mighty Care and Circumspe­ction Turgesius us'd to the contra­ry; for there was not a Hole, or [Page 4]a Corner, much less a Town or a City in the whole Realm, that was capable of it, in which he had not planted a Garrison, made as he thought, secure by impreg­nable Fortifications.

All things being order'd in this manner, he began to partake of the Pleasures of Peace, which his long Toil and indefatigable La­bours had newly establish'd. Those cruel Wars which had o­pen'd the veins of this distemper'd sick Kingdom, had not yet drain'd one drop of his ill Blood, which corrupting for want of usual Ex­ercise, made him degenerate from the noble Science of War, to pra­ctise that of Love; and giving way to his unruly Passion, be­came in a short time wholly Conquer'd by the fair Eyes of Dooneflaith, the Daughter of Maolseachelvin King of Meath.

[Page 5]This Lady was one, on whom Nature had lavishly bestow'd all the Graces and Ornaments which could be, to make Humanity ado­rable; she was so nobly endow'd, and so incomparably Beautiful, that to see her, and not ad­mire her, was impossible; yet was she capable of all the soft sentiments Love could imprint; and had already devoted her Heart to a Man, to whom without blame she might warrantably do, being Prince Murchoe, Eldest Son to Bryan Boriamh, who was after­wards Elected King of all Ire­land.

This Prince matchless in his gallant Exploits, was not less to be paralell'd in his Love; it is enough to tell you, he saw the beautiful Dooneflaith, and conse­quently lost his Heart in the sight; but so much awe did her Vertue create in him, that for some time [Page 6]he languish'd in the Torments of his Flame, without daring to ut­ter one word of his Love; and all the while the charming Doone­flaith was subject to the same Malady.

Thus for a Time did these two secret Lovers live in Hopes that Fortune would at some time or other, be propitious to their Amours; and altho' they were so enamour'd of each other, yet dar'd not either of them shew the least sign of their Passion. For now Turgesius made it his business to win the Heart of this Lady, and Maolseachelvin himself was not the last who discern'd it; nor could he any way forbid his Ad­dress, knowing how dangerous a thing it might prove, to stand in competition with so mighty and powerful a King. Murchoe was not insensible of it, and to his inexpressible Grief, was forc'd in [Page 7]silence to bewail his Misfortunes, and see all the Joy of his Soul Caress'd and Ador'd by another: What Lamentations and Moans would he make when alone? And what Grief would possess him, when he fear'd that his charming Dooneflaith might in time consent to the Love of the Tyrant. He became so Melancholy and Trou­bled, that the whole Court cou'd not but take notice of it; and notwithstanding he us'd all endea­vours to stifle his Flame, yet he could not so closely conceal it, but Turgesius (for no Eyes are sharper than those of the Jealous) perceiv'd it; and under pretence that he suspected him to be Ill inclin'd to his Government, Banish'd him the Province, which was a far greater Punish­ment to the young Prince, than had he instantly doom'd him to Die.

[Page 8] Dooneflaith was soon made ac­quainted with the Misfortune of Murchoe, in which she took such part, that she had much ado to refrain falling in a swoon before the King, and was forc'd to feign an Excuse to get from his sight; she went slenderly accompa­nied, having but two Maids who kept at a distance, into a Garden, at the farther end of which was a Grove, whose melancholy shades seem'd fittest for her Condition; and in which obscurity she might have free Liberty (thinking no body by) to vent her Complaints, while her Women, who seeing her sit down on a Bank, retir'd to an Arbour hard by.

It was not without much trou­ble, and many endeavours that she could find utterance for her words, her sighs and sobs still hindring her Speech; but at length having by large streams of Tears, [Page 9]which ran down her Cheeks, al­most drain'd the Channels of her Eyes, she began to give ease to her Heart, which without vent, must have certainly burst.

[Page 10]While she was thus complain­ing to her self, e're she was aware Turgesius approach'd her, and found her in tears; just at the same time as Murchoe, who be­hind an adjoyning Hedge had over-heard all she had said, was going to throw himself at her feet; but seeing Turgesius arrive, he lay still, as much pleas'd with what he had learnt from Doone­flaith's own mouth, as troubled and afflicted at the coming of so Potent a Rival, who hinder'd him from making known to his Mistriss the sense that he had of her Goodness, and the absolute Power she had gain'd over his Heart.

Dooneflaith was greatly sur­priz'd to see one so near her, whom she so much fear'd, and had cause to hate; she would have risen and left the Place to the King; but was prevented, [Page 11]by his taking her by the Hand, and throwing himself down by her; she, not yet well awaken'd from the lulling Cogitations of her dear Murchoe, her beautiful Face all cover'd with blushes, was forc'd to sit down by Turgesius; who casting a look, which signi­fy'd how much he was concern'd for her Trouble, desir'd her to tell him the cause of it; ad­ding, if it lay in his power to give her Redress, she had no more to do but command him.

Dooneflaith, at the present, was at a loss what Answer to make him; 'till after several De­mands, she spoke in this man­ner.

Turgesius, was strangely per­plex'd in his Mind, to see one, whom he thought he might have commanded, make Capitulations with him, and so much to distrust the Word of a Monarch, that no less than an Oath would serve to confirm her, He told her, ‘That had she not gotten an absolute sway over his Heart, he wou'd never have condescended to a thing the most powerful Prince shou'd never have gained from him; in short, he swore to her By Heaven, and all his Pagan [Page 13]Gods, that whatever she de­manded if it lay in his power should be granted, upon Condi­tion that she would allow him to love her, and give him leave to hope, that in time his Passi­on might be rewarded.’

Turgesius after a small pause, answer'd her ‘Madam said he altho' your Father should command you to marry me, nay, tho' my Life, and my fu­ture Eternal happiness only de­pended upon it, yet will I al­low you your own liberty, nor ever Wed you, unless you freely consent to it. But as for Murchoe's repeal, it wou'd indeed shew in me too much love, but too little discretion; for I know well, Madam, (says he going on) the Prince's Thoughts are too aspiring, and that so long as he lives in the Province, I must expect nei­ther Peace in my Throne, nor my Love, for I have more suf­ficient Proofs than bare report, that he Rivals me both in your Heart and my Crown: How [Page 15]much cause have I therefore to to hate him? especially now, since you are so much interest­ed for him, I shall but take in­to my Bosom a Snake, that when warm'd again with my Favour, will sting me to the Heart, and with his Venom ran­kle all my Peace and Tranqui­lity; however, to shew you that I pretend not to your Love by that power the Heavens have put into my Hands, I freely consent that he stay still at home, nay even here in our Court, and I shall admit him to use all his Art, and make his Addresses to you, so that I likewise may be heard in my turn.’

Turgesius remained some time silent, in expectation of her An­swer, but the blessing his Words had pour'd on her Heart, was too mighty for her Tongue, nor knew she how to return him the [Page 14] [...] [Page 15] [...] [Page 16]Thanks which were due for so no­ble an Offer, without betraying too much of her Love, but at last overcoming the conflict in her Soul, she utter'd these Words.

[Page 17] Turgesius was pleas'd at these Words, and took his leave of her, with a promise immediately to re­call Murchoe, whom he told her he believ'd was not departed from Court, it being yet within the li­mits of the time appointed for his Banishment. Dooneflaith return'd him such an answer, as the Noble­ness of the Deed did require; she told him he had now took the right course to succeed in his Love; but no sooner was he parted from her, but she began to accuse her own Heart for what she had done, and altho' it was only what her love for Murchoe had urg'd her to, yet she could not but lightly condemn the way that she had ta­ken to gain his Repeal; she was too sensible there was no room in her Breast for any but Murchoe, and that Turgesius, with all his endeavours could never supplant the esteem she had for him; and [Page 18]withal, vow'd in her heart, that if once Murchoe shou'd mention his Love, to give him such an an­swer as should not displease him.

Turgesius had no sooner left her, but at a small distance he espies Dooneflaith's two Women, who at present he knew not, and his curiosity pressing him to see who they were that were most melo­diously singing to an Harp, which they had brought with them into the Garden, Musick being the chief thing that did of late allay the melancholly humour of their Lady; he therefore retir'd under the covert of an Hedge that was by and had but just laid himself down to give attention to the Song, but he espied Murchoe with his Sword in his hand; Turgesius call'd to his Guards, thinking he had some design on his Person; but Murchoe dissipated those fears, by throw­ing Himself, and his Sword at the [Page 19]Conquerors Feet, without so much as speaking one Word.

Turgesius, who was now in a greater surprize, to see his most mortal Enemy (as he thought him) in so suppliant a posture, and not doubting but that Murchoe had had some private Conference with his Mistress, was inflam'd with such Jealousy, that with a fierce and angry tone he pronounc'd a­loud these Words, which Doone­flaith plainly could hear.

Murchoe heard these Threats with a Soul all inflam'd with Re­venge; but fearing the prejudice of his Mistress, who now he began to hope, held not his Life indiffe­rent, stifled at present his resent­ment, and tho' at any other time he had a mortal detestation of Flat­tery, yet now he thought it most expedient for the working his in­terest with the divine Dooneflaith, answer'd him thus.

By this time the Guards were come up, and Turgesius, in the sight of them, and Dooneflaith, who also was come up when he call'd to his Guards, took Murchoe from the Ground, and in the presence of them all, pronounced his Par­don, and the freedom he allow'd him to make his Addresses to Dooneflaith.

Dooneflaith was so taken with his generous Proceeding, that she cou'd not with-hold from giving him a thousand Praises, which made him imagine he had no small [Page 24]Interest in her Heart already; and were as so many stabs in the Breast of Murchoe, who now began to think that her pleading for his re­peal, was only out of fear that in his absence, he might raise new Forces, and so once more bring Turgesius's Life into hazard: Af­ter a walk or two in the Garden, Turgesius making Murchoe take one of Dooneflaith's fair hands, while he held the other, they went in all together; and now the whole Court was talking of nothing, but the aspiring Love of Murchoe, and the noble Condescention of Tur­gesius.

Moalseachelvin was at that instant with Brian Boraimh, Murchoe's Father, in consultation how they should shake off the tyrannous Yoak of this Usurper, when this last adventure came to their Ears, Mo­alseachelvin from thence gather'd some hopes of accomplishing his [Page 25]ends; but Brian inwardly accused his Son of disloyalty to his Coun­try, who when he had the Tyrant alone, at his Mercy, prefer'd the love of Maolseachelvin's Daughter, before that of his Honour, and his enthrall'd Kingdom, wherefore they both parted at that time, without coming to any result.

The next day Turgesius made his addresses to Dooneflaith, but found his reception colder than he imagin'd; wherefore sending for her Father, he discover'd his Mind to him, and contrary to his Pro­mise and Oath to Dooneflaith, com­manded him to use his utmost en­deavours to reduce his Daughter to accept his Love.

Murchoe taking the advantage of Turgesius's Permission, went al­so to Dooneflaith, where he free­ly open'd his Mind, and discover'd to her all that he had heard from her the day before in the Garden, [Page 26]she saw it was now no time any longer to hide her affections, and to the unspeakable joy of Murchoe, confess'd that he had won so much on her heart, that would their Pa­rents consent, she was willing to accept him for her Husband; this was not so privately done, but a Spy whom Turgesius had secretly plac'd there to that purpose, made him acquainted with all that had pass'd, which rais'd such confusi­on in his Soul, that he knew not how to be reveng'd on Murchoe, nor what punishment to inflict on Dooneflaith; but after many tor­menting Cogitations, was resolv'd, himself, to be a private Spectator; and if that he found what he fear'd, (and was told him) to be true, to end Murchoe's Life with his own hand.

Wherefore in a day or two af­ter, seeing Dooneflaith was inex­orable to all his Intreaties, he [Page 27]seem'd to give over his Suit, and now Murchoe had the greater li­berty of prosecuting his Amours. He had endur'd all the reproaches that an incens'd Father cou'd make him, and had in vain solicited for his consent, and altho' he found his Mistress, and also her Father no ways averse, but rather desir­ing the Match, yet to his afflicti­on and sorrow he could see no pro­bability of his happiness, since his own Father stood so much against it: No Prayers, nor Intreaties cou'd move him, and he had char­ged him no more to visit Doone­flaith upon that account.

Murchoe, who had yet never known what Disobedience to his Father was, and had never broke the least of his Commands, now saw himself in a miserable condi­tion, either he must loose the love of his Father, or that of his Mi­stress, both equally destructive to [Page 28]him, he resolves, at last, to follow his Duty, in hopes that in time his Love thereby would prove more happy; he fail'd not however to pay her his visits, tho' with a Countenance less assur'd than be­fore; and she could not but ob­serve the great alteration that was wrought in his Heart; his Words bore not those soft and sweet ac­cents they were wont, nor did he put that joy on his Face as for­merly he had: She could not see so mighty a change, but ask'd to be inform'd of the cause, which with disjointed Words, and heavy Sighs he at length told her.

Dooneflaith hearing him talk of Death, took him by the hand, and (with a thousand soft charms in her Eyes, tho' half drown'd in Tears, said to him) ‘O my Lord! can any thing make your Life so burdensome that you would quit it so long as I love you? can you thing of wound­ing a Heart wherein I have an interest? For so nearly ally'd are all your Sufferings to my self, that not one drop falls from your Eyes, but my Heart an­swers with the like of Blood: Say then, my Murchoe, what has befallen? Has Turgesius gi­ven you cause of Jealousy? or do you think because I allow of his Visits (which Heaven knows is not in my pow'r to prevent, [Page 30]or I would) that I ever can con­sent to his Love? No, no, Mur­choe, not all the Diadems in the World, not all the Monarchs on Earth shall put you from my Heart; there you, and none but you shall Reign, but play not the Tyrant there, and by Turgesius's Example take delight to spoil and ransack what I so freely give,’—Here her Sighs broke off her Speech, and rais'd our Lover from the Exta­sies her tender Words had cast him into.

Here Turgesius came from the Place in which he had over-hear'd all, and was so transported with [Page 32]his Rage, that had not Doone­flaith interpos'd, Murchoe (e'er he could have turned in his own Defence) had been laid as a Sacri­fice to his Anger dead at his feet, nor had he the patience (so much was he blinded with Pas­sion) to stay till he had call'd his Guards; but enter'd alone un­armed all but his Sword.

Murchoe was so lost in his Sor­row, that till he heard Doone­flaith shriek out, he saw him not enter, and was ready to save Tur­gesius the pains, and have dy'd of himself, when he saw his Mistress hold his Rival in her Arms; then falling on her Knees (still hold­ing by his Robe) and profusely showring down floods of Tears to save her Lovers Life. ‘O Tur­gesius, my Lord, my King and Conqueror, spare, O mighty Monarch, spare my Murchoe's Life, and in exchange I'll give [Page 33]you this of mine; kill not a Man, the Gods themselves wou'd mourn to lose, one whom their utmost Skill can never paral­lell.’

Turgesius by this time repented him of his entring alone, know­ing by that rashness, that he haz­zarded a Life, his Love, and a Crown, against a Man most stout, and much beneath him; where­fore going to retreat, he was pre­vented by Murchoe, who by this time had got between him and the Door, and stood ready with his Sword in his Hand to hinder his passage. ‘Is this, (says he to him) according to your King­ly Word? Do you esteem your Vows and Oaths so little? Then Heaven refuse me, when I beg its Mercy, if I let slip this op­portunity. No, Faithless Ty­rant, now I meet thee single, come from thy Buckler there, [Page 34]and meet me fairly, now show thy Valour, and preserve thy Life, by taking mine; for all the Powers above have joyn'd consent, that one of us must fall.’

Turgesius could no longer listen to his threats, but (disengaging himself from Dooneflaith, he cry'd out) ‘Good Gods, if Inso­lence like this, to me, who am thy King, shall 'scape without its just Reward, and go away unpunish'd, let every School­boy whip me with a Rod; and may the Women brand me, with the hated Name of Cow­ard!’ Die Traytor (goes he on making a stroak at him) ‘since one of us must fall, take a Death too glorious for so base a Villain from thy Monarch's Hands.’

Here they both engag'd in Fight, but Dooneflaith fearing [Page 35]the loss of her lov'd Murchoe, catches hold of Turgesius's Arms, by which means she gave Mur­choe opportunity to get within him, and disarm him. ‘Now, Sir (says Murchoe) but that I scorn so poor and base Revenge, and would not use the advan­tage given me by a Woman, I'd ease the Kingdom of its Thraldome, and free my self from a perfidious Rival. 'Tis she alone, that vertuous lovely Lady, whose presence charms my Hand from giving thee that Death which thou deservest. O Madam (says he turning to Dooneflaith) how inglorious have you made my Name! that, had you given me leave, might have resounded through the World, and born the Title of its Countrys Saver! Ireland should then have had its native Liberty again, and I perhaps [Page 36]been chose their King, proud only in that Glory, to lay my Crown beneath your Feet.’

Turgesius (with a dauntless Front) told him how much he was indebted to Dooneflaith, who had not only Repeal'd his Banish­ment, but had now given him the advantage over him. He told him withal, how base and mean insulting was; and bid him, since he was in his power, to use him as he pleas'd; but charg'd him still to be mindful how he got the Victory so much he boasted of. Murchoe cou'd no longer endure the thoughts of making use of the Advantage given him against a single Man, threw Turgesius his Sword, and bid him use it once more. But Dooneflaith ran to him, and with Tears in her Eyes, besought him to desist; but nothing could prevail; and had not some of the Courtiers and [Page 37]Guards (who by this time were come to the place, hearing the clashing of Swords) prevented (by disarming the valiant Mur­choe) Turgesius had a second time fall'n under his Mercy; for just as they had seiz'd on him, Turge­sius's Sword broke short to his Hand.

It was not without many com­mands that Turgesius himself cou'd hinder the enrag'd Soldiers from taking Murchoe's Life, and cut­ting him to pieces even before his Mistresses Eyes, who now pleaded in his behalf so persua­sively, that she obtain'd of the Monarch his Liberty of Life, with Condition that he forthwith left the Kingdom. Murchoe after what he had done, was glad at present on any Conditions to get from the malice of the enraged Danes; wherefore without so much as taking his Leave of Doo­neflaith, [Page 38]he fled from the Court; but not being willing to leave his Native Soil, by which he knew he should utterly be depriv'd of all means of serving his Mistress; whose absence now ran more in his Mind than all his other Mis­fortunes, his Life became in two or three Days so cumbersom to him, that he was resolv'd either to lose it, or free it, together with all Ireland of the Tyran­nous Burthen it bore. To which end, he posts to Armagh, where­of Turgesius was quickly inform'd, and at four several times in one Month, caused Fire to be set to that City, to drive him from thence: Nor did he spare either Monastery or Church that stood in his way, lest he should take Sanctuary in them. He likewise put to Death all their Priests, and plac'd Heathen Lay-Abbots in every Cloister. Nor did his fury [Page 39]spare either Sex or Age, whom he thought favour'd his Conceal­ment.

The poor afflicted Dooneflaith spent all her Nights and Days in most cruel condolement for the loss of her Murchoe; nor could all the fair Promises or large Of­fers Turgesius could make, win her to bestow on him, even to his own Face, any other than the Title of Tyrant; in hopes that thereby she might raise his Cru­elty to that pitch, as to give her a Death, which next to the Love of her dear Murchoe, would now be most welcome unto her.

Turgesius's Love now became so fierce and unruly in his Breast, that nothing but the Enjoyment of Dooneflaith could allay it, or give him one moment of ease; he resolv'd in himself, nothing should impede his Desires; where­fore he once more sends to her Fa­ther [Page 40] Maolseachelvin, to use his Au­thority with his Daughter, and make her more pliant to his Love; or that all who belong'd to her, should feel the weight of his An­ger, and know how fatal the Consequence should be in case she refus'd, and did not come willingly into his Arms; he had left off his Addresses to her, after having found her impregnable, and wait-a while for an Answer from Ma­olseachelvin.

Some days pass'd, and the un­fortunate Dooneflaith began to entertain hopes that the Tyrant had quitted his Suit, and that her ill usage of him had banish'd his Love; she had now time enough to bewail her Misfortunes, and miss'd not a Day, in which she went not to the Grove in the Garden to ease her sorrowful Heart by Complaints. One Day among the rest, she was got into [Page 41]an Arbour, where having wea­ried her self with her Grief, soft slumbers seal'd up her Eyes, and laid her to Sleep, and in her Dreams she imagin'd she saw Murchoe all bloody come into her Room, and give her a thousand Reproaches of being unfaithful; then pulling a Sword from under his Robe, he would have pierc'd his own Breast; at the sight whereof, Dooneflaith started out of her Sleep, in such an Agony, that she was not her self in an hour or two after. But having well consider'd 'twas only a Dream, and the Fancy of her Distemper'd Brain, she fell to complaining again.

No sooner had she utter'd these words, but she saw at the entrance of the Arbour, one in a Womans Dress, who at first view she knew not; but recollecting her self, she perceiv'd to be Murchoe. ‘Thanks, bounteous Heaven, said she, now my Prayers are heard, this Charitable Act has cancell'd all your former Cruelty; wellcome my Love,’ says she, running to take him in her Arms; but how was she surpriz'd to see him shun [Page 43]her soft Embraces! and stood ga­zing on her, as tho' he had never seen her before. ‘Ah! Murchoe, says the charming Maid, is it thus you requite all my Suffer­ings? Can my Embraces be thought troublesome! or sure I do mistake, and this is not my Love, but some illusion that does wear his Face, and come to mock my Miseries.’

Murchoe was so astonish'd at his suddain Happiness, that he could scarcely believe what he heard, or saw; and Dooneflaith was so much alter'd with her continual Pineing and Grief, that he scarce knew her: But his Sen­ses assuming their former strength, he ran to her, and fell at her feet, where he vented such a flood of Tears, and so many Sighs, that he was not able for some time to utter one word, while the passi­onate Dooneflaith, fearing he was [Page 44]grown unkind, or jealous, fell down by him in a Trance.

Murchoe, not minding where he was, and what hazard he ran of discovering himself, and con­sequently of losing his Life, call'd out for Help, naming himself a thousand times over, to have been the unfortunate fatal Cause.

Dooneflaith by this time co­ming to her self again, gave him a Sign that she liv'd by a Groan. ‘O blessed sound, said he, what Musick dost thou make in my Heart! such a sad accent co­ming from my Love, at any other time, wou'd rend my ve­ry Soul; but now since 'tis the Messenger of Life, 'tis more Melodious than the Songs of Angels are; repeat it once a­gain, and bless my Ears.—Ha! says Dooneflaith, where am I? What super-Officious Hand hath brought me back to Life! What more than savage Beast, could be so cruel to awake me from my long Eternal Sleep.’ But opening her Eyes and seeing Murchoe, she alter'd her Note, and gave Heav'n a thousand thanks for their Kindness, and ask'd [Page 46]him forgiveness for what she had said.

He had yet no power to An­swer, nor wou'd his Kisses per­mit her to finish what e'er she began, and to their mutual Con­tent and Satisfaction, they spent some time in the silent Oratory of their Eyes, where each so feeling­ly did tell such Stories, as Words cou'd ne'er express. Murchoe was the first who broke silence, and return'd her a million of Thanks for the interest she had taken in all that he suffer'd, they made a thousand new Protestations of Lo­ving till Death, and gave each other firm assurances of future Fi­delity. They were parting, with Promises to see each other as often as they could when Maolseachel­vin her Father enters, taking Murchoe, (not minding his Face, which he took care to conceal,) for one of his Daughters Women, let [Page 47]him pass by without the least sus­picion.

Maolseachelvin told Doonefla­ith that she must prepare, for in three Days he had promis'd Tur­gesius to send her unto him, ac­company'd with fifteen other Virgins, as a Victim to allay the Fury, that her Obstinacy, and Murchoe's Treachery had rais'd in his Breast. He stay'd not to receive any Answer, but went forwards to perfect the Walk he intended, and to think of the Pro­ject that was working in his Brain.

No sooner was he out of sight, but the afflicted Dooneflaith be­took her to the Arbour again, and throwing her self on a Bank, she vented her Sorrow in this man­ner. ‘Oh Cruel, Barbarous Fa­ther, said she, and have you at length consented to a separation [Page 48]'twixt me, and my Murchoe, to become the Wife of Turgesius. But that, I can easily hinder. Besides, he has Sworn he will never Request it, but by my permission, which I will sooner grant to Furies to hurry me to Hell. No, inhuman Parent, tho' you and all the World wou'd grant me His! yet if none else will, Death shall for­bid the Banes. But if forget­ful of his Oaths, he forces me to Wed him, ev'n in the Ty­rant's sight, I'll Pierce my Heart, and spurt the reaking stream full in his hated Face.’

Murchoe having seen Maolse­achelvin quit his Daughter, and observing her to retire back into the Arbour, follow'd after her, to enquire what her Father had said. But in what a Consternation was he? when, as he entred, he beheld her tearing her lovely Hair, and [Page 49]imprinting the marks of her Rage on her beautiful Face, and giving such stroaks on her tender Breast, as were enough to force Life from its seat. Murchoe ran to her, and put a stop to her Hands, which surely else had ruin'd so much Beauty, as none but she could ever boast of. ‘Oh! unkind Doone­flaith, said he to her, what new afflicton has befall'n my Love? that thus she seeks to spoil the fairest Temple, Beauty ever fram'd.’ ‘Oh Murchoe, replies the despairing Dooneflaith, leave me to my self, my Griefs are catching, and with its black Contagion will infect thy Soul; Heaven has not yet left pouring down its Wrath, and what a­lone was meant for me, may fall on you; the Gods above have mark'd me out a Subject for their utmost Cruelties! My Father,—Oh, I blush to call [Page 50]him so, forgetting me, forget­ting Honour and himself, has giv'n me o'er into the Tyrant's Hands; but Three Days time I have allow'd to mourn the loss of thee my Love, and everlasting Happiness.’

[Page 51]While they were thus condo­ling their hard fortune, and say­ing all the soft things Love could inspire them with, Moalseachelvin returns, and hearing his Daugh­ter's Voice in the Arbour, enter'd, and found our Lovers Arm in Arm, in which posture they had resolv'd to end their Lives toge­ther, and never part, but go Hand in Hand to Death: Which had not her Father entred, and snatch'd the Dagger out of Mur­choe's Hands, had been effected.

Murchoe seeing Maolseachelvin, could not forbear discovering him­self to him, and giving him a thousand Reproaches for yielding to the Tyrant's will. Maolseach­elvin was amaz'd to find him in Company with his Daughter, and in such a Dress; but having re­solv'd with himself what to do, he thought it but Wisdom to con­ceal it till some fitter Season. [Page 52]Wherefore not minding what Mur­choe said to him, he ask'd his Daughter, if she had consider'd well of what he had told her.

Maolseachelvin could hardly re­frain from Tears, to see the sad Condition his Daughter was in; however he goes on, and laid be­fore her the Power of Turgesius, and that if she did not willingly consent, he would have her by force. ‘Think, says he to her, how you cou'd endure to see a loving Father Murder'd before your Face; for that and more he swears to do, if you consent not to his Love; he vows when he has had his Will, which all the Powers above he is re­solv'd shall not hinder, he'll give your Body to the vilest Danes, and let the meanest Soldiers use you as they please. Then think again, how happy thou may'st live, how High and Glorious sit on Ireland's Throne, if by [Page 55]your Love you sooth this Migh­ty Monarch.’

Murchoe who all this while stood Thunder-struck to hear these im­pious urgings of her Father, cou'd no longer forbear uttering his Mind, with Eyes sparkling with Anger, he stept up to him. ‘And can Maolseachelvin, says he, then become so base? Can he, whom Ireland's Hopes are fix'd upon, degenerate from his Vertuous Noble Ancestors, and from a Prince, become a Bawd! unheard of Wickedness, a Pan­der to his Child! 'Twill can­cel all my former thoughts of Vertue, and make me think thou never didst beget her; for surely such a pure untainted stream cou'd never rise from so impure a Spring! Or were you ten times over her Fa­ther, if it were possible, she shou'd not now obey; I with [Page 56]these Hands wou'd sooner give her Death my self.’

‘No, Ambitious, Vain-glorious Boy, answers Maolseachelvin, it is not in thy Power to give her Death, or save thy Life—’ So calling to two young Gentle­men, who waited without, and whom he had won to his Pur­pose, and had promis'd in all things to follow his Directions, he commanded them to lay hold on Murchoe, and then went on. ‘Now see rash Youth, says he, how Fatal 'tis to play with Thunder, whose Bolt has fal­len, and crush'd thee to the Earth; I'll send thee bound in Chains along with her, which Act will doubly gain Turgesius's Heart,’

Dooneflaith seeing them seize on Murchoe, ran to him, and ta­king hold of his Arms, would have stop'd him; but her Father [Page 57]loosing her hold, she fell upon her Knees, and, with a Torrent of Tears, besought him to save the Life of Murchoe. ‘Do with me, says she, what you please, give my unspotted Honour to the Tyrant's Lust, Brand me with Infamy, but save this Noble Youth.’

Murchoe seeing Maolseachelvin so obdurate to all her Intreaties, fell likewise on his Knees. ‘Be­hold, said he, with Tears, the humble Murchoe suppliant at thy Feet, who begs not to pre­serve his Life, but your dear Daughter's Honour, send her away, and lay the blame on me, I'll own 'twas I, who bore her from his-Arms; then to ap­pease his Wrath, let me be sent unto him, I'll willingly endure his utmost rage, and count my Life well spent to save her Vir­tue.’

Maolseachelvin could no longer hold out; but running first to his Daughter, then doing the like to Murchoe, he took them both into his Arms, and wept a flood upon their Necks. ‘Right virtuous Pair, said he, whom Heaven has sent to make me happy in my latter days, my loving Chil­dren both; forgive the Tryal I have made; Now witness for me all ye bless'd above, I hold ye equally as dear as Life, as Ho­nour, or my precious Soul; and since I find so well you Love each other, curs'd be that Man [Page 61]who would untie this Knot: Now wipe your Tears away as I do mine, tho' sprung from different Causes; yours, from your Sorrows, mine, from migh­ty Joy; stifle your Grief, as I conceal my Vengeance. Make thee his Mistress—Now Heaven forgive me, if I would not sooner damn than harbour such a thought; I for my dear lov'd Daughter's honour, would set at nought my sweet immortal Soul. No, Dooneflaith, no, Genereus Murchoe, I have so contriv'd it, she shall be sent to him, and as he writes to me here (shewing them the Letter wil­lingly,) has also commanded me to send him Fifteen young Virgins of our Noblest Blood, to slake the burning lust of his Chief Officers, I'll send them too. But since so well thy Wo­mans Dress becomes thee, thou [Page 62]shalt be one, and Fourteen Youths, as Bold and Valiant as thy self shall go, all clad and dress'd like thee, with each a Sword beneath their Gowns. I have sent to those who have taken shelter in the Woods, Mountains, and Boggs, to be in readiness, and have a Thou­sand Men, who at the Signal given, shall fall upon his Guards. Letters already I have dispatch'd to every City in our Country, to bid them Rise on such a Night.’

They all swore Secrecy, and departed, only Dooneflaith and Murchoe were not separated till it was late, but went together into her Chamber, where, to their in­expressible satisfaction and mutu­al joy, they Supp'd together, and passed away the hours till Bed­time, then Murchoe was Con­ducted into an Apartment by him­self, where he spent that Night on the thoughts of the past Days Adventures, and the important [Page 64]Affairs they were to perform in a short time after.

The next Morning Maolseach­elvin sent a Messenger to Turge­sius, promising according to his Commands, that he had won on his Daughter to obey him; and that as he hop'd for his Kingly Favour hereafter, he would not fail upon the Morrow Night to send her, accompany'd with Fif­teen Virgins more, who were al­so willing to run the same Fate, and participate of the Joys their Mistress should receive in so splen­did an Entertainment.

Turgesius was almost ravish'd with this News, for certainly no Man ever lov'd, or rather lusted to the degree he did; he was re­solv'd to have lost the whole King­dom but he would enjoy her; his eager Joy sat heavy on his Heart, for Love is most impatient on Crown'd Heads. But finding her [Page 65]come thus easily, he spar'd not for any thing that might make her Reception Magnificent. He sent for Fifteen of his Chiefest Commanders, and told them what a Treatment he had for them. In short, the whole Court was almost new model'd, the Rooms adorn'd with Rich Beds, and the most Costly Hangings.

Never was Palace so galantly set out with Gold, Jewels, and Tapestry as this, not any thing below the Dignity of Silver, and that curiously wrought and Mas­sive, was us'd in any of the Chambers; Cloth of Tissue was the meanest Furniture they had; the Candlesticks were Gold; so that all the Wealth those Sacrilegious Danish Heathens had despoil'd the Churches and Monasteries of, with all the Plunder they had ta­ken at Sacking of Towns, and King's Courts, were all now [Page 66]brought to this Palace; so that it might be said, That one Spot of Ground, held more Wealth than all Ireland besides.

Nor were the Wines but of the Richest, and all the variety of Viands which could be procur'd, were sent for to this Place, and every one was employ'd in some Office or other; and the King, with his Commanders almost Mad for the arrival of the happy Night, their longing impatience thought that almost an Age, which was only but twenty four Hours.

The Hour at length arriv'd, and Dooneflaith set out with a Noble Train of suppos'd young Virgins, whereof Fifteen of them were of the most Handsome, and yet most Stout and Resolute Youths of Ireland, as well and gloriously Dress'd as Hands, Jew­els, and Art could effect it; each having one or two others to attend [Page 67]him as his Servant, or Waiting-Woman, in the same Female Ap­parel, and each a short Sword un­der his Gown.

Turgesius went about a Mile out of his Court to meet them, as soon as he had news of their approach, accompanied with Fif­teen of his Choicest Comman­ders, some whereof he had sent for out of strong Cities wherein they Commanded, who also had with them an equal Train of Atten­dants.

The first interview of the two Parties, was such a Sight as might have equal'd, if not exceeded, that of Alexander, when he met Thalestris and her Amazons up­on the Banks of the Euphrates.

It seem'd as tho' Mars himself had led the Van of all the other Gods, to meet with Venus and the Female Deities.

[Page 68] Turgesius, and all who follow'd him, quite forgetting their Gran­deur, and Martial Habitude, de­scended from their shining Gild­ed Chariots, and went to those of the Ladies. Nor had Maolseach­elvin spar'd Cost to make his Daughters Equipage more Mag­nificent and Glorious than any that Ireland had seen before, especially that of the Charming Dooneflaith, which was so Richly Furnish'd, that at a distance in the glittering Sun-beams it was too Glorious to be lookt upon, and struck a sort of Blindness in the Spectator's Eyes who beheld it. She was drawn by six milk white Horses, Caparison'd with Trappings of Gold, an the Chariot wherein she rode was open, having Rich Embroider'd Curtains held up by young Cupids, who seem'd well pleas'd, and smiling at the Deity [Page 69]that they attended; nor were the others much less sumptuous.

In short, who e're had been to see the first Greeting, could not but have been astonish'd at so No­ble a Sight. Turgesius, (as tho' he had long practis'd the Art of Love) so behav'd himself, that even Dooneflaith was mov'd with Compassion, at the great Action she was to perform. However, she seem'd as eager to reveive his Caresses, as if she had met with the Man whom her Soul a­dor'd. After some few Compli­ments had pass'd on either side, (the Women having by this time alighted to meet the Men) they all mounted again, the Monarch taking Dooneflaith into his own Chariot, and the other Com­manders following his Example, did the like with those who came with her.

[Page 70]And now being Pair'd, they set forward for the Court; all the way that they rode, they were diverted by Trumpets and Wind-Musick, which in their turns made a Seraphick Harmony. But that which most of all Charm'd the Ears of the Warriours, were the soft and melting Expressions the counterfeit Ladies did use; which were so ravishing, and ten­der, that not one of Turgesius's Train but could willingly have wish'd to have pass'd by the Ceremony of Supping, and have gone immedi­ately to their Chambers; even Turgesius himself thought the time, tho' spent in his Mistresses Com­pany but irksom and long, so eager was he to have the sweet Charmer in his Embraces.

But Supper being ended, the description whereof, would but delay the recital of things more [Page 71]material, they prepar'd for their Beds, and Dooneflaith was led up by the suppos'd Maidens who came with her to the Chamber that was assign'd for the Mo­narch; He being impatient for the dear happiness his Soul so much long'd for, thought them too tedious in undressing her, and putting her to Bed; being no longer able to defer the happy moment, disarm'd himself below, as all the rest of the Comman­ers did, laying their Arms on a Table in the great Hall, went each to his Chamber, expecting the coming of Her he had chose. But Turgesius no sooner entred his Room, for he came alone, than he was seiz'd on, and immedi­ately gagg'd, that no out-cry might be made; they had certain­ly kill'd him, had not Murchoe interceeded; who told him he now paid him back a Debt that [Page 72]he ow'd him, ever since he was so generous to save his Life formerly from the outrage of his Soldiers and Guards, who were ready to have cut him in pieces, when he fought with him in Dooneflaith's Apartment; in retaliation of which, he wou'd now save his Life from the threatning Swords of those who justly thirsted for his Blood.

Turgesius was not a little sur­priz'd at the unlook'd for Adven­ture; but above all, at the gallant Generosity of his Noble Enemy, and incens'd Rival, he would have made him such an Answer as suited the greatness of the Act, had he had the liberty of speak­ing. But now his Heart was so troubled at the loss of Doone­flaith, and all his ravishing hopes were so blasted, that Life to him was but an unnecessary thing; he began tho' too late, to think [Page 73]how dearly he must pay for his Lust, and how pompous the So­lemnity had been made for the bringing on his utter Destru­ction.

The thoughts of the loss of a Crown, came crowding upon him, and he could not but be sensible what a lasting Infamy this Action must lay on his blind and inconsiderate Credulity. How would he, in his Mind, Curse the time that he first saw that Char­ming Seducer, and now beheld her with more Detestation and Horror, than heretofore he had done with Love and Pleasure.

But we must leave him to him­self, and return to the rest, who (after the seizing Turgesius) had no better success than their King, unless ending a miserable Life might be accounted some mitiga­tion of their Misfortunes. The Signal was presently given out of [Page 74]the Court Windows to the small Army that Maolseachelvin had brought to the Gates, and all those Attendants and Servants who came with his Daughter, were in a readiness to give the Onset to those in the Palace.

Turgesius and his Train no sooner rose from the Table, but the inferior Commanders and Of­ficers were set down to it; each with one of those under Women who came with Dooneflaith; the Bowls of Wine were going mer­rily about, and the Danes (who are potent in Bacchus's Bat­tles) were too busie, and the Mu­sick too loud to let them hear Maolseachelvin, when with his Arm'd Men he forc'd his way in­to the Palace; and they were greatly surpriz'd when they saw a whole Band of stout Irish-men well Arm'd enter the Hall. It was now no time to demand [Page 75]what they meant; for e'er they could scarce turn about to see who they were, they met with their Fate,

A greater Confusion was never seen, the Tables were all over­thrown, and the Blood of the Danes, with that of the Grape, promiscuously mingled, made a purple Deluge on the Floor; nor was there a Dane that Night in the Court, who found not his Death, except Turgesius the Ty­rant, who was reserv'd for a more ignominious and miserable End.

Nor had this Great Underta­king any worse success in the o­ther parts of Ireland; for those Towns and Cities whose Gover­nours were slain at the Feast (more bloody than that of the Centaurs) hearing of the loss of their Commanders and their King, lost with them their Courage, and [Page 76]yielded an easie Victory to the brave Irish, who in a short time after, releas'd the whole Kingdom from the slavish Tyranny of the Danes, to their Lawful Subjection under a Monarch of their own, which was by the consent of the Nobles plac'd on Maolseachelvin, for the gallant Exploit he had done, for then their Monarchs were Elective, and with good reason the Choice fell on him.

Now the Irish had thrown off the Danish Yoak, and were again at Liberty, each enjoying the be­nefit of Peace, which was intro­duc'd by a most bloody and furi­ous War. Nor was there a Dane left in the whole Country, but such who they us'd as their Slaves, and put to mean Offices; and those who were before so busie in demolishing and burning of Churches and Monasteries, were now employ'd either as Smiths, [Page 77]Carpenters, or Masons, in their Re-building, and the Church-Lands were all restor'd to their proper uses. The Lay-Abbots whom the Danes had plac'd there, were cast out of the Cloisters and slain, and the whole Kingdom be­gan once more to Flourish in Christianty, and was establish'd in the true Worship of God.

It is necessary, e'er we proceed any farther, to give a step back, and see what became of our Lo­vers, and the depos'd Usurper; who, some time after his Defeat, was led about the Streets, thro' which so often he had rode in Splen­dor and Triumph, now Manacled, and loaden with Chains, and be­came a scoff and derision to those, o'er whom so lately he Triumph'd, and in this Condition (with a shouting throng of the Vulgar) was he conducted to the River Laugh-Ainme, into which he was [Page 78]cast, and finish'd a burthensom Life, by being their drowned.

Our two Lovers, had now, as they thought, no other Obstacle, but the consent of Bryan Boriam­he Father to Murchoe, who they hop'd would agree to their Marriage. The Valiant Murchoe in that Night's great Action, ha­ving shifted his Womans Apparel, put on the more becoming one of Arms, and flew like Lightning to assist his Country-men, leaving the care and safeguard of Doone­flaith to her Father, and it was some days e'er he return'd, but to his great misery; for now Maolseachelvin having the pros­pect of a Crown in his sight, and having stomach'd Bryan's denial of their Marriage before, was firmly resolv'd that interest should not bring him to consent to it now. Wherefore going to his Daughter, and taking her into [Page 79]his Closet, he Commanded her on her Duty, no longer to think of her Lover; but when Murchoe return'd, to use him as one who was most indifferent to her.

After this he left her, and went to his own Chamber; no sooner was he parted, but Dooneflaith looking out at the Window, be­held her dear Murchoe, with his Father just entring the Palace; and not being able to think on the severe Injunctions her Fa­ther had laid on her, without a torrent of Tears, and a thousand imprecations on her unkind Stars. ‘O barbarous Father, said she to her self, more Tyrannous and Cruel to thy Child, than Sa­vage Monsters are to those they [Page 85]hate; not see my Love, but with disdainful looks! not give him one kind glance for all his Love! not one kind word of thanks for all his pains! this Cruelty exceeds all precedent! my unkind Speech or Eyes will do the fatal Work, and leave no business for my Father's Sword! O that some Angel would in­struct my Love, and tell him that my Eyes and Tongue are Lyars, that my poor Heart bears no consent to what they say; tell him I am all over Love, and that my Murchoe is more precious to my Soul than all the World besides.’

Murchoe, and his Father, with several of his Friends were now come into the outward Court of the Palace, and casting his Eyes up to the Window, he beheld his adorable Mistress; who no sooner saw him, but withdrew from the [Page 86]Place, which Murchoe thought was done to haste to him. ‘Oh! Father (says he, almost Exta­sied) look how the Treasure of my Soul does fly to meet my longing Arms; now all the Blood I've lost in Ireland's Wars, will largely be Re­warded.’

Bryan took such part in his Sons Transports, that he could hardly forbear shedding Tears of Joy. But Murchoe lest he should be out-done in kindness, made what hast he cou'd into the House, and at the end of the Hall beheld his fair Dooneflaith, whom he ran unto with all the speed his Love could make. ‘Oh! thou charming, soft and lovely Maid, said the transported Murchoe, let me upon thy tender Breast breath the soft languishments of my o'er flowing Joy!’ But how did he start, and look amaz'd, [Page 87]when he not only saw she met him not half way, but shun'd his Arms; and after a small pause, with gazing Eyes he thus went on.

‘What, my Dooneflaith, says he, are my Embraces loathsom grown! What, dost thou turn away the warming Sun-shine of thine Eyes; not one kind look to crown thy Murchoe's Victo­ry, not one soft word to bid him wellcome home!’ Doone­flaith could no longer turn away her Head, yet was afraid of her Father, who through a secret place look'd into the Hall, and beheld her with frowns; and fear­ing she should not perform what he bid her, her Love and she must part for ever; cast so dis­dainful and scornful a look upon Murchoe, that he clapping his Hand to his Heart, cry'd out, ‘O Gods! those cruel piercing [Page 88]Eyes have stab'd my Soul, and given me a death my boldest Enemies could never do.’ Then after a little stop, he went up to her, and would have taken her by the Hand, but she refus'd it him; ‘telling him the unkindness of her Father had destroy'd their Loves, and that now he had fallen from his Promise, and had com­manded her no more to look on him with Amorous Eyes; in pursuance to whose will, she did from thence forward forbid him to visit her.’

Murchoe, during her talk stood like one without Motion, nor had he the power to utter one word, till he saw her departing the Hall; but then running 'twixt her and the Door, he fell on his Knees, and beg'd her for her former Love to hear his latest words; but she overcome with the pitiful sight, being no longer able to look on [Page 89]one in that woful Condition, and one whom contrary to her will, she her self had made so, return'd him no Answer; but snatching her Hand out of his, which e'er she was aware he had seiz'd, without so much as looking back, she went out of the Hall, and left the Disconsolate Murchoe on his Knees.

He continu'd in that posture till she was gone out of sight; then rising on his Legs again, he drew forth his Sword, and had ended his Life on its Point, had not his Father, and Friends (who expected no less) stept in and prevented him. ‘Oh! Cru­el Father, say he to Bryan, this last unkindness, out-does all you you have done to me before; why would you have me live, when Life's so great a burden? Were it not better I at once gave up my breath, than live in [Page 90]lingring pain, and deal it out by sighs! O Faithless Woman, says he a little after, thou ab­stract of Inconstancy, where's now that charming Voice which with kind Protestations swore, Murchoe should ever be her Souls delight; farewell, a long and last farewell, for with your cold disdain you've blasted all my Hopes, and now no remedy is left but Death.’

With much ado at last, they got him home to his Chamber, but twas not in their power to get him to Eat, or take the least refreshment; and it was a long time before his Father could get him to promise to use no violence on himself; to which he would never have consented, had not Bryan told him, he would use all his Endeavour to alter Maolseach­elvin's Resolutions.

[Page 91]No sooner was his Father gone out of the Room, but he com­manded all who were with him to do the like; and after two or three hasty turns in the Chamber, he flung himself on his Bed, where he pour'd out such Tears, such Sighs, and Complaints, that he drew moisture from the Eyes of all who look'd in at the Key­hole of the Door to see what he did. But now let us return again to our History.

Soon after all things were set­tled in Peace, the Victorious Ma­olseachelvin, was as is said before, by the Election of the Princes and Nobility of Ireland, deservedly made King of Meath, and then Monarch of the whole Country; when there arriv'd three Brothers out of Norway, viz. Amelanus, Cytaracus, and Ivorus, with their Families, and great Trains, who (in a most Amicable and Peace­able [Page 92]manner) pretending to be Merchants, obtain'd leave for the better carrying on their Traffick and Trade, to build three Cities near the Sea side; which was per­mitted them, upon Condition, that they paid Tribute for them. Articles of Agreement being con­sented too, on both sides, they fell to Work, and erected the three Cities, now call'd Dublin, Wa­terford, and Limrick; which they had no sooner finished, and had made almost impregnable by strong Fortifications, but the Irish began to see their Error, and now it was that they felt the Power of an Enemy, no less prejudicial in all appearance, than that they had lately subdu'd.

These Sea-port Towns giving entrance to fresh and numerous Fleets of Norwegians, Danes, and Oostmans; insomuch that the Irish were forc'd once more to [Page 93]have recourse to their Arms. And here it was that Maolseachelvin's Heart became mollified, and once more gave consent (when the Kingdom should be freed of its Foes) that Murchoe should Marry his Daughter.

The two Lovers had now ad­mittance to see each other, and with a bleeding Heart the Charming Dooneflaith made known to her dear Murchoe the reason why she us'd that severity to him at his return from the former Battle: Murchoe lov'd too well to think any of the fault was on her side, and was now the most happy Man in the World. Her Father, the King, made him his General, but the Occasion was urgent, and he was hasted away, having scarce time to take his Leave.

However, he had with a thou­sand soft and passionate Speeches already parted with Dooneflaith, [Page 94]and was now come to Maolseach­elvin, who receiv'd him with all the expressions of tenderness that could be. ‘Go Valiant Youth, says the King to him, go, and return Crown'd with Laurels of Victory; revenge the hard Usage you have suffer'd, on those barbarous Infidels; for­give my Rashness, and believe I now set no difference betwixt thee and my own Child. No, my dear Son, for so henceforth I will call thee, and tho' your Father shun all my Advance­ments, I thus will embrace his Son. Go then, Victorious Murchoe, Head our Men; my chearful Soldiers long to see their Chief, they think the time you lose in my embraces, an Age, in their impatience.’

After many endearing Discour­ses, Murchoe took Horse, and went to the Army, who wellcom'd him with loud shouts of Joy; and where he found such Stout and Resolute Irish-men, that where-ever he came, he carried Victory on his Sword's Point; while his Father Bryan no less fearing the loss of the Kingdom again, in the Southern parts of the Country did such things as would almost seem incredible, and in a short time was Crown'd King of Mun­ster, still Conquering where e'er he went, and soon after subdu'd [Page 96]one half of the Nation. Nor did he put a stop to his irresistable Force, till he was publickly E­lected, and made Monarch of all Ireland, the Nobility and Princes deposing Maolseachelvin, to make way for Bryan, giving him leave to live, which is the greatest mi­sery that can befall a Monarch af­ter the loss of a Diadem.

Bryan now being King of all Ireland, thought himself suffici­ently reveng'd for the slights which Maolseachelvin had put on his Son, and commanded Mur­choe to come home to his Palace, which then he kept at Tomond, to the unspeakable trouble and af­fliction of the two Lovers, who now were taking, as they fear'd, their last leaves of each other.

Dooneflaith could not hear him make such a scruple, without shewing how much it touch'd her Heart. ‘Oh, cruel Murchoe! [Page 98]said she, do you take part a­gainst me! And if I will be constant! Barbarous doubt! have you thus long beheld me stand the shock of all Misfortunes, even when Ambition, and a Monarch's Crown. would have shook the most firm and con­stant of our Sex; and can you make that scruple now? If I'll be constant! Oh Heaven! that If, will stab me to the Soul! you've found the only means, next to your hating me, that could undo my peace, you al­most tear my Heart up by the roots; what! doubt an Heart like mine, that is made up of nothing else but Love and Con­stancy! But I forgive Thee Mur­choe, I know 'twas but the overflowings of thy tender fear, and the excess of a too power­ful Passion; and to confirm my [Page 99]dearest Murchoe's Mind, bear Witness for me now, Oh all ye Gods, and show'r upon me all your dreadful Vengeance, if what I say be not sincere and true, when in your absence I forgot my Faith, either in thought or deed; either for Threats, or all the Proffers in the World; if from this Heart Murchoe be ever absent, then let the Furies tear me Limb by Limb, and Dogs and Wolves devour my scatter'd Carcass.’

‘No more, says Murchoe, I believe my Saint, and ever shall retain these precious words in the chief Records of my memo­ry.’ They were forc'd soon af­ter this to part; but with such languishing and dying looks, as if they ne'er should meet again: how many times did Murchoe go to the Door, and then return [Page 100]again, loath to depart, printing his soft Lips on her fair Hand, and she as often wish'd they might dwell there for ever; they sighed, and wept, then wiped their watry Cheeks, making ex­change of Hearts at eithers Eyes; at last, as though both their words had been prompted by one Soul, they together cry'd, the Gods preserve, and ever be your Com­fort.

Murchoe having taken his leave, went directly, but most heavily, towards his Fathers Palace in Tomond, call'd Cean-Choradh, where he was welcom'd by Bry­an, and the whole Court; but what were all the welcomes in the World to him, since his Doo­neflaith's Voice was wanting in the Consort, the Musick was not sweet or charming, he wholly bent his Thoughts on her, and [Page 101]Day or Night, she was the sub­ject of his Mind; tho' he was ever accounted Devout, yet now the welfare and happiness of his afflicted Mistress, threw him on his Knees almost each hour.

His Father, and the whole Court could not but greatly wonder at this mighty Change; he grew Pale, neglected Meat, and Sleep, walk'd all the Day in melancholy places, seeking recesses, where the hunted Beasts scarce dar'd to enter, they were so dark and dis­mal; where, with his folded Arms across his troubled Breast, he'd vent the Griefs which rankled at his Heart.

Into one of these Places was it, that his Father one day follow'd him, and having privately listned to his usual Complaints, when the poor Prince had thrown him­self down, extended on a rugged [Page 102]Rock, his Eyes (like Rivers which had broke their Banks) pour'd forth a flood of Tears, with Groans and Sighs, which almost rent the Vault.

[Page 103]He was going on, when Bryan interrupted him: ‘What Mur­choe, said he, is the Cause that thus thou spendest thy Youthful time in Cells? Thus pine, and like a Woman drown thy self in Tears? Thus leave the migh­ty Business of the World, and bend thy Thoughts on a fanta­stick Trifle? Thus shun thy Friends, and seek these solitary Shades? Rouze up, for shame, awake thee from these Idle Dreams; thy Father bids thee, and a King Commands, thy bleeding Country wants thy aid: Ambition should methinks inflame thy Heart, and banish Love from that too noble Seat. Make thy self worthy to be my Successor; what? can the spright­ly Murchoe lie dissolving in Tears, when all the Land is al­most drown'd in Blood? Think [Page 104]on a Crown, think of a Mo­narch's Power, and see how poorly Love will shew to these; or were those out of reach, and that thy Hopes stood not so fair as now they do, think on thy Honour, and thy future Fame.’

Bryan could no longer hear him sue in vain; but told him, if he would take Arms, and shew himself once more in the Field, and, according to his wonted Cu­stom, come home laden with Vi­ctory, he would so much indulge his Love, that, if after this, he still continued in that Humour, he'd use his utmost Power to make him Happy.

The Prince overjoy'd with this Promise, went home with his Fa­ther, and in a few days after, Headed a brave Army against his Country's Enemies; Victory still follow'd wheresoe'er he fought, and his Courage and Conduct were not a small cause of the Re­nown and Glory that accru'd to his Father: For 'tis Remarkable, that Bryan Boraimh defeated the [Page 106] Danes and their Confederates in Twenty five bloody pitch'd Bat­tles; he was accounted one of the most Puissant and Noble Mo­narchs of the Milesian Race; and tho' he liv'd not to see these Inva­ders quite expell'd the Kingdom, yet he fought in the last Battle, that gave them their Overthrow; having in his Life time reduc'd the Kingdom (especially towards the latter end of his Reign) to so tranquil and quiet a State, that Ireland was become all peaceable and flourishing. Nor were there to be seen any Danes, but such who liv'd quietly under his Go­vernment, and were either Mer­chants, Handycrafts-men, or Ar­tificers, who had their chief Re­sidence in Dublin, Weixford, Wa­terford, Cork, or Limerick; and tho' they were a considerable Number of them, yet not so ma­ny, [Page 107]nor so Potent, but that he thought should they at any time Rebell, he could Master them at his Pleasure.

Murchoe seeing no Comfort ac­crue to him in all this general Joy, for he alone was excluded the benefit of Tranquility the whole Nation pertook, the Con­quests and Honour he won, added more Trouble to his Soul, since he could not yet obtain his Fa­ther's Consent, he avoided as much as he could the Pleasures of the Court, and betook himself wholly to the Country, where, in unspeakable Torments, he wa­sted his time in Complaints. But being one day near the House of Maolmordh Mac Murchoe his Un­cle, whose Sister by name Garm­laigh, Bryan his Father had Mar­ry'd, he thought to pass some time in a Visit to him, and was very kindly receiv'd.

[Page 108]But Bryan having an occasion for Timber for the finishing some Ships he had begun, especially some Masts, he sent to his Bro­ther-in-law Maolmordh to furnish him with them, to which he con­sented, partly out of fear to deny him, and partly for Kindred sake, he went himself to see them cut down, and assisted with his Men, those who were sent for them, in the getting them over a Moun­tain; to which they say (some difference happening amongst the People) he put his Hand to him­self, and in the action broke off the Gold Clasps that fastned a rich fring'd Mantle of Silk which Bryan had sent him. At length, he with his Nephew Murchoe, came to Cean-Choradh.

But no sooner did he arrive at Tomad, and had gone to his Sister Garmlaigh's Apartment to give [Page 109]her a Visit, and acquainted her how he came to break off his Clasps, which he desir'd her to get mended again for him; but in a rage she threw the whole Mantle into the fire and burnt it, reproaching him with meanness of Spirit, in so unworthily sub­jecting himself, and his People of Linster, whereof he was King, to ' Bryan, altho' he was her own Husband.

[Page 110]These words, (tho' at present he made her no reply) sunk deep in his Heart, so taking his leave of her, he went into the Presence, where he found a Nobleman and Murchoe playing a Game at Chess, ( Maolmordh being touch'd to the quick with the Reproof that his Sister had given him, and no lon­ger able to stifle the sense he had of his Fault) advis'd him who was playing with Murchoe on some Draught, which lost his Nephew the Game.

Murchoe, who had not been us'd to receive such Indignities, (for it was done in so palpable a manner, as he could take it for no less) being highly displeas'd, told his Uncle Maolmordh King of Linster, in a deriding man­ner, ‘That if the Advice he had formerly given to the Rebel Danes been no worse, they had [Page 111]not so easily lost the Battle at Gleaun Mama; yet notwith­standing his mighty Policy, he could not win them the Field.’

Maolmordh, being stung with this jear, in a fury reply'd, ‘How­ever my Advice succeeded at that time, the next that perhaps I shall give to the Danes, shall prove better to your Cost.’ So in a discontented Humour was departing; when the Prince Mur­choe told him; ‘It should never break one moment of his Rest to countermine what ever Pro­jects he could design; and with­al told him he defy'd him.’

Whereupon the King of Linster retir'd to his Chamber, and would not (although he was sent for by Bryan) come down to his Sup­per; but flinging himself on his Bed, pass'd all that Night in the extreamest anxiety of Spirit, that [Page 112]could be imagin'd; and early the next Morning, before any of the Court were stirring, takes Horse, and posts away for Linster, where his Heart was so full (what with the rebukes his Sister had made him, and the defiance his Nephew had given him) that he had no way to ease it, but by giving, if he could, a stint to their Inso­lence, by making them to know, that they had rouz'd a sleeping Lyon, whose Fury and Rage should not be allay'd by any thing but their utter destruction.

The next day he assembles the Chief of his Nobles, and the Gen­try, and represents to them the Indignity that had been put upon them in the Person of their King; and so aggravates the Matter, that he drew them all to his side, and made them all on fire to re­venge it; by throwing off their [Page 113]Allegiance and Fidelity to Bryan, and joyning their Power to that of the Danes, and in return to the the Challenge that Murchoe had made him, to send him ano­ther.

Having gain'd his Designs at Home, he flies with all speed to Dublin, and there engages the chief of the Danes, to send away instantly to their Master, the King of Denmark, for a strong and powerful Supply to pull down the Grandeur and haughty Pride of Bryan, and to destroy their, and his most mortal Enemies; which on the word of a King, he promis'd to perform, would they be assistant.

While Messengers were sent over into Denmark, he returns Home again; where (with all the hast he could use, and most inde­fatigable pains) he prepares for a [Page 114]War; nor was it long e'er he goes to Dublin again; where, at his arrival, two of the King of Denmark's Sons ( Carolus Knu­tus, and Andreas his Brother) Landed, at the Head of twelve thousand Danes, which they had brought along with them, whom (after he had kindly receiv'd, and refresh'd them well) he forth­with, knowing delays in such Ca­ses would be dangerous, and give his Enemies too much time to Unite) by an Herald sends Bryan a bold Defiance, daring him to meet him in a spacious Field at Clantarf, within two Miles of Dublin.

Bryan had no sooner receiv'd this Challenge; but (making what speed he was able) joyn'd together all the Forces of Munster, Connaught, and Meath, for those of Ulster, he sent not to them, [Page 115]being unwilling to stay till they should come up; and believing he had Power enough out of those other three Provinces to encoun­ter the Enemy.

The Prince Murchoe his Son was sent to those in Meath, where he once more got a sight of his charming Dooneflaith, and whom (after the success of the Battle) he had a Promise from Bryan his Fa­ther, that he should Marry.

Never did two faithful Lovers meet with such Joy, and Doone­flaith even blest the Causers of this War, which had made her so happy with the presence of her dear Murchoe. Maolseachelvin, tho' depos'd from the Monarchy, had great Interest in the Province of Meath, and soon rais'd such For­ces, as perchance none else could have done; which Bryan under­standing, made him General of [Page 116]that part of the Army, and sent for his Son back to himself.

But if the Meeting of this A­morous Pair was so full of Joy and Content, yet their Parting was such as is not to be express'd; they took their leaves of each other, with such unwillingness, and regret, that their Separation seem'd to have rent their Hearts asunder.

Murchoe was not altogether so overwhelm'd as he had formerly been, since his Hopes now stood fair, in a few days, to Crown all his Sufferings with the enjoyment of his Charming Dooneflaith: But the disconsolate Fair-One, felt such Pangs, at his taking his leave, as gave those who stood by (especially her Father) cause to suspect they were but too fatal Omens. And he being willing they should have all the liberty [Page 117]the little time he had too see her, to say what they pleas'd privately together, he withdrew, and left them to themselves.

Now it was that Dooneflaith vented the tenders of her Soul in such a manner, that Murchoe him­self could hardly stay with her, to hear the Complaints which she made of her hard Destiny. ‘Oh Murchoe, said she, you are go­ing to leave me for ever; I have something here at my Heart, that prompts my Soul to think Murchoe will never re­turn to his Dooneflaith again, my presaging Heart fore-bodes, that the Victory which you are going to win, will be cause of Joy to all Ireland, but my unfortunate self.’

Murchoe us'd all Arguments that could be thought of, to dissipate her Fears; ‘And told her, that [Page 118]his Courage, guarded by the hopes of her Love, would make him do things that should fill the Trumpet of Fame to the end of the World. I go, my Charming Dooneflaith, says he, to set this Kingdom in Peace, that so I with the more free­dom may quietly enjoy the Blessing the Gods would bestow at the end of the Conquest; and that Ireland might be so set­tled, that he no more might have cause to quit her soft Arms to follow the Wars.’

While they were Embracing, in order to Part, Maolseachelvin came in, and told him he must make all hast possible with his Forces, for all the others which they expected were come in but his.

The Prince, as eager as he was to meet his proud Challenger, and not think of leaving his Mistress behind; wherefore, by her Con­sent, and joint intreaty, Maolsea­chelvin promis'd to bring her with him; this at last something appeas'd the Sorrow of both; and Murchoe, after a thousand soft Kisses, and Embraces, and as [Page 121]many Sighs, and Tears on both sides, took Horse, and posted be­fore to his Father, and the next day after Maolseachelvin follow'd with his Army; and at the Rear of that, the beautiful Doone­flaith.

In a few days after, the Armies of the three Provinces joyn'd all together, and march'd in good order to the Place appointed, be­ing a spacious Field near Clan­tarfe, call'd Magnealta, where they beheld Maolmordh at the Head of a vast Army; being six­teen Thousand Danes, together with all the Forces he could raise in Leinster, which was divided into three Battalions; that of the Right Wing Commanded by Carolus Knutus, that on the Left by his Brother Andreas, (the two Sons of the Danish King) and the Main Body Maolmordh took care of himself.

[Page 122] Bryan drew up his Army much after the same Order, committing the Right Wing thereof to Maol­seachelvin, the Left he Com­manded himself; and (at the in­treaty of his Son Murchoe, that he might oppose Maolmordh him­self, who had given him a Chal­lenge) the main Body was under his Conduct.

Early next Morning (it being Good Friday) both Armies drew near, and after a short time the fatal Signal was given on both sides, never did two Armies en­counter more fiercely; the shouts and cries, with the Thunder­ing noise of the Drums and, sound of Trumpets, were enough to rend the very Roof of Heaven. Nor for half the Day could it be decided upon which side hover­ing Victory would light; and had Maolseachelvin (who Headed the Army of Meath) came up, they [Page 123]had soon turn'd the Scale. But he, remembring the Affront of Bryan, who made him be De­pos'd, to make way for himself, as soon as the Signal was given, stood off with his Men, and was only a Spectator of the most bloody and terrible Fight that ever was Acted on the Tragick Theatre of Irish Ground. Nay, tho' at one time he saw his own Country-men begin to give way, and the Danes in a probability of winning the Day, yet did he stand unmov'd.

Bryan who Headed the Left Wing of the Army, being Old (for he was now above fourscore and eight) having to do with Carolus, who was both Valiant and Young, was in the Battle struck from his Horse, and had not Prince Murchoe come timely to his Rescue, he had been trod [Page 124]to pieces by the Enemy; which ne­vertheless so bruis'd and wound­ed him, that he was forc'd to be carry'd to his Tent, leaving the Charge of his Army to Prince Murchoe.

Now was the time that he had the whole Fate of Ireland de­pending upon his Sword, he did such wondrous Actions as sur­pass'd all belief, and so bravely behav'd himself, as tho' he had been some God sent down from above. He (spight of all their Forces, thinking of the Liberty of his Country, and Love of his dear Dooneflaith) made such breaches in their Main Body, that not­withstanding they had all the Inspiration of Courage, that Martial-Conduct, Ambition, Glory, Revenge, and Despair could afford them, yet so great was Murchoe's Courage, and [Page 125]Conduct so happy, that the Da­nish and Leinster Forces could no longer withstand him; having with his own Hand first slain Maolmordh, who was the first occasion of this War; and then at two several times the two Sons of the King of Denmark; whose Loss so disheartned the Enemy, that they gave way, to an easie, though dear-bought Victory; for Murchoe being too far engag'd among the Danish Horse, tho' over-power'd with Number, fought 'till he had made a Ram­part of dead Bodies about him, which for some time secur'd him from Fate; but an unlucky acci­dental Arrow laid him dead up­on a Pyramid of his fallen Ene­mies.

Yet for all this, did not the resolute Irish loose one foot of Ground, or one bit of their Cou­rage; [Page 126]but rather, spur'd on by Revenge, made the Danes pay dear for his Loss, and in a short time became sole Masters of the Field. Thus without the assist­ance of Maolseachelvin, were the Danes overcome; one whereof, whose Name was Bruador, be­ing Commander of a Danish Party, and who with his Men flying in the General Rout, was forc'd to take that way where Bryan the Monarch's Pavi­lion was pitch'd; into which (as he was passing by) he en­tred; and seeing the King, whom he had formerly known, Bryan suspecting no such thing, having totally gain'd the Battle, basely Murder'd him as he lay wounded in his Bed: But he soon had the Reward due to so Trea­cherous an Act; for he, and all who follow'd him, were by his [Page 127]Guards, and the Pursuers, cut all to pieces.

Maolseachelvin after this, put in for his Share, and made him­self once more Monarch of Ire­land. Tho' his Daughter no sooner heard the Death of her Lover, but as though she had lain down to Sleep, flung her self on her Bed, and without so much as one Groan, Sigh, or Murmur, she cry'd, My Mur­choe calls me, and I must go to him; so dy'd in the presence of her Father, and the rest of the Nobility, who had escap'd in the Battle, for there were but few left alive: and on the Mo­narch's Side, besides Bryan him­self, and the Renowned Prince Murchoe his Son, were kill'd in this Battle, Seven petty Kings, most of the Princes and Nobi­lity of Munster and Conaught, [Page 128]and four Thousand of meaner Degree.

But on the other side, viz. that of the Danes and Leinster Party, were Slain Maolmordh Mac-Murchoe, the King of Lein­ster, who was the Original Cause of this Slaughter, with all his Principal Nobles, and three Thou­sand Common Soldiers; toge­ther with Knutus, and Andreas, the two Sons of the King of Den­mark, and all their Great Com­manders, with six Thousand se­ven Hundred of the New-come Forces from Denmark, that they had brought over with them, and four Thousand of the old Danes, who were, before their coming, in Ireland. In all the Slaughter on both Sides, that Day, amount­ed to seven Thousand seven Hun­dred Men, besides Kings, Prin­ces, Commanders, and other No­ble-Men.

[Page 129]Some time after this Battle, Maolseachelvin, (who now the second time sat on the Monar­chical Throne of Ireland, and was the last Monarch of the Mi­lesian Race) took Dublin, Sack'd it, Burnt it, and Slew in it all those Danes who had made their escape thither from the Battle of Clantarfe.

The next Year, in the said Maolseachelvin's Reign, Huag­haire Mac-Duniling Mac-Tuatil, another King of Leinster, who succeeded Maolmordh, tho' of a more Noble Race, and better In­terested for the Good of his Country, gave a mighty over­throw, (which was the last that was given) to Stetirick the Son of Aomlaibh, and the Danes of Dublin, who after the Battle of Clantarfe, and the Burning of Dublin by Maolseachelvin, had [Page 130]once more Recruited from the Isle of Man, and other Islands, which were yet in Possession of the Danes, but were now totally destroy'd throughout all Ireland.

Thus did that Warlike and An­cient Kingdom free it self from the Tyranny of its mortal Enemy the Danes.