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Eoghan Ruadh Mac an Bhaird
Heart Rending News

Sad is thy plight, O feeble heart; wrong or persecution against thee is but a slight injury: thou givest thy love away so freely that insult to thee goes unpunished.

Thou art easily discomfited; many can sound thy depths; sad is thy plight; it is a light matter to chasten thee, indeed to render thee powerless.

Let no man on earth avoid provoking thee or hurting thee; on thy behalf I cannot stand firm; what avails thy noble ambition?

Whatever tale has been told us now about O'Donnell, I am ashamed that it should vex thee: thy stirring is a cause of mockery.

I see that despite all the resentment that my lord has merited from me, thou dost not sleep upon his wound, the fury of thy struggle is seen.

Where is the plea thou didst put forward, where is the nobility or the honour, where is now yesterday's indignation, if thou hast been stabbed through?

After all that I say of thee, poor effeminate heart, good are thy jibes at my patience concerning the prince of Sligo's flowing stream.

That the hand of O'Donnell of Dún ós Sáimh has fallen (if it is true) in Italy--since that is the cause of thy distress, it is no groundless alarm.

And yet it is not fear for thyself that would trouble thee, though that were scandal enough, but that he should be taken from the journey he has proposed, and from the land of Banbha.

After all that the lord of Bearnas has done of late, in this fall that he has got I should indeed be at ease but for the trouble of Ireland.

However it be, if the land of the Children of Conall should hear what I have been told, she would think it her own ruin, that bright land of clear waterfalls and cool mounds.

If the race of Gaoidheal Glas should hear what I have heard from the grandson of Maghnus, the flower of Ireland's ramparts would have many a reason for plotting about it.

Every man will say, 'If Rury's succession were closed, whom should we celebrate to-night, as one through whom we might hope for deliverance?'

The Lord who seeth thy condition, O land of the Sons of Mil from Spain, may He look upon thee and upon me, may we get no ill news!

Though we were not troubled about what has been certified to us, though it were no reverse of fortune, many now are afflicted, and not (merely) because of O'Donnell of the Deel.

The fall of the hand of the warrior of the Erne has caused hearts to swell: may the sickness he has caught depart from him--none but an enemy is unsaddened thereat.

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