Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CATHAL'S FAREWELL TO THE RYE, by THOMAS D'ARCY MCGEE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CATHAL'S FAREWELL TO THE RYE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Shining sickle! Lie thou there
Last Line: Farewell, sickle! Welcome, sword!
Subject(s): Leinster, Ireland; O'connor, Cathal. King Of Connaught


CATHAL CROV-DERG (the red-handed) O'CONNOR, being banished in
his infancy from Connaught, was found in exile in Leinster by the Bollscaire
(messenger or herald), who brought him the news of his father
Thurlough's death, and his own election. The Bollscaire found him
reaping rye in a field with clowns. On hearing the news, Cathal cast
the sickle on the ridge, saying: "Farewell, sickle; now for the sword!"
To this day, "Cathal's farewell to the Rye" has been a proverb among
the Sil-Murray whenever they wanted to express a final farewell.


SHINING sickle! lie thou there;
Another harvest needs my hand,
Another sickle I must bear
Back to the fields of my own land.
Farewell, sickle! welcome, sword!

A crop waves red on Connaught's plain,
Of bearded men and banners gay,
But we will beat them down like rain,
And sweep them like the storm away.
Farewell, sickle! welcome, sword!

Peaceful sickle! lie thou there,
Deep buried in the vanquished rye;
May this that in thy stead I bear
Above as thick a reaping lie!
Farewell, sickle! welcome, sword!

Welcome, sword! out from your sheath,
And look upon the glowing sun;
Sharp-shearer of the field of death,
Your time of rust and rest is gone.
Welcome, welcome, trusty sword!

Welcome, sword! no more repose
For Cathal Crov-derg or for thee,
Until we walk o'er Erin's foes,
Or they walk over you and me,
My lightning, banner-cleaving sword!

Welcome, sword! thou magic wand,
Which raises kings and casts them down;
Thou sceptre to the fearless hand,
Thou fetter-key for limbs long bound, --
Welcome, wonder-working sword!

Welcome, sword! no more with love
Will Cathal look on land or main,
Till with thine aid, my sword! I prove
What race shall reap and king shall reign.
Farewell, sickle! welcome, sword!

Shining sickle! lie thou there;
Another harvest needs my hand,
Another sickle I must bear
Back to the fields of my own land.
Farewell, sickle! welcome, sword!





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