KILDARE’S BARD ON TOURNAMENTS.

Sing not to me of Normandie,
      Its armor’d knights and bloodless sports
Its sawdust battle fields, to me,
      Are odious as its canting Courts;
But sing to me of hunting far

      The antler’d elk in Erris’ vales,
Of flying ’neath the crackling spar,
      Off Arran, through Atlantic gales.

Raymond was brave, DeCourcy bold,
      And Hugo Lacy bred to rule—

But I am of the race of old,
      And cannot learn in Norman school.
Sing not to me of Guisnes field,
      Or how Earl Gerald match’d with kings*—
I’d rather see him on his shield

      Than tilting in their wrestler rings. [Page 114]