They
carried on a private correspondence, and she informed him that O'Ruark,
intended soon to go on a pilgrimage (an act of piety frequent in those
days), and conjured him to embrace that opportunity of conveying her from
a husband she detested to a lover she adored. MacMurchad too punctually
obeyed the summons, and had the lady conveyed to his capital of Ferns."--
The monarch Roderick espoused the cause of O'Ruark, while MacMurchad fled
to England, and obtained the assistance of Henry II.
"Such," adds Giraldus Cambrensis (as I find him in an old translation)
"is the variable and fickle nature of woman, by whom all mischief in the
world (for the most part) do happen and come, as may appear by Marcus
Antonius, and by the destruction of Troy."
OH! HAD WE SOME BRIGHT LITTLE ISLE OF OUR OWN.
Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own,
In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone,
Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers,
And the bee banquets on thro' a whole year of flowers;
Where the sun loves to pause
With so fond a delay,
That the night only draws
A thin veil o'er the day;
Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live,
Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give.
There, with souls ever ardent and pure as the clime,
We should love, as they loved in the first golden time;
The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air,
Would steal to our hearts, and make all summer there.
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