“Cheer up! cheer up! my own dear maid,”
Kildare cried to the weeping lady;
“Soon, soon, shall come the promised aid,
With shield and lance for battle ready;
Look out, while swift we ride, and tell
What see’st thou now at Tenachelle. 
Does aught on Clemgaum’s Hill now move? 
Cheer up, and look, my own dear love!”

“Still higher swells the rushing tide,”
The lady said, “along the river;
The bridge wall’s rent, with breaches wide,
Beneath its force the arches quiver. 
But on Clemgaum I see no plumes;
From Offaly no succour comes;
No banner floats, no trumpet’s blown—­
Alas! alas! we are alone.

“And now, O God!  I see behind,
My father to Red Raymond lending,
His war-horse, fleeter than the wind,
And on our chase, the traitor sending: 
He holds the lighted aquebus,
Bearing death to both of us;
Speed, my gallant Memnon, speed,
Nor let us ’neath the ruffian bleed.”

“Thy love saved me at risk of life,”
Kildare cried, “when the axe was wielding;
And now I joy, my own dear wife,
To think my breast thy life is shielding;
Thank Heaven no bolt can now reach thee,
That shall not first have passed through me;
For death were mercy to the thought,
That thou, for me, to death were brought.”

And now they reach the trembling bridge,
Through flooded bottoms swiftly rushing;
Along it heaves a foaming ridge,
Through its rent walls the torrent’s gushing. 
Across the bridge their way they make,
’Neath Memnon’s hoofs the arches shake;
While fierce as hate, and fleet as wind,
Red Raymond follows fast behind.

They’ve gained, they’ve gained the farther side! 
Through clouds of foam, stout Memnon dashes;
And, as they swiftly onward ride,
Beneath his feet the vext flood splashes. 
But as they reach the floodless ground,
The valley rings with a sharp sound;
The aquebus has hurled its rain,
And by it gallant Memnon’s slain.

And now behind loud rose the cry—­
“The bridge! beware! the bridge is breaking!”
Backwards the scared pursuers fly,
While, like a tyrant, his wrath wreaking,
Rushed the flood, the strong bridge rending,
And its fragments downwards sending;
In its throat Red Raymond swallowed,
While above him the flood bellowed.

Hissing, roaring, in its course,
The shattered bridge before it spurning,
The flood burst down, with giant force,
The oaks of centuries upturning. 
The awed pursuers stood aghast;
All hope to reach Kildare’s now past
Blest be the Barrow, which thus rose,
To save true lovers from their foes!

And now o’er Clemgaum’s Hill appear,
Their white plumes on the breezes dancing,
A gallant troop, with shield and spear,
From Offaley with aid advancing. 
Quick to Kildare his soldiers ride,
And raise him up from Memnon’s side;
Unhurt he stands, and to his breast,
The Lady Anna Darcy’s pressed.