We die-does it matter when?

Sink me the ship, Master Gunner-sink her, split her in twain !

Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain !"

And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:

"We have children, we have wives,

And the Lord hath spared our lives.

We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to

let us go;

We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow."

And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the

foe.

And the stately Spanish men to their flag-ship bore him then,

Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,

And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;

But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:

"I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;

I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die !"
And he fell upon their decks, and he died.

And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant

and true,

And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap

That he dared her with one little ship and his English

few;

Was he devil or man? He was devil, for aught they

knew;

But they sank his body with honor down into the

deep,

And they manned the Revenge with a swarthier alien

crew,

And away she sailed with her loss and longed for her

own;

When a wind from the lands they had ruined awoke from sleep,

And the water began to heave and the weather to

moan,

And or ever that evening ended, a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earth

quake grew,

Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags,

And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shattered navy of Spain,

And the little Revenge herself went down by the isl

and crags

To be lost evermore in the main.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

TYRRELL'S PASS

1597.

[In the valuable notes to the Annals of the Four Masters, the fol lowing account of the battle of Tyrrell's Pass is given at page 621"The Captain Tyrrell mentioned in the Annals was Richard Tyrrell, a gentleman of the Anglo-Norman family of the Tyrrells, Lords of Fertullagh, in Westmeath. He was one of the most valiant and celebrated commanders of the Irish in the war against Elizabeth, and during a period of twelve years had many conflicts with the English forces in various parts of Ireland; he was particularly famous for bold and hazardous exploits, and rapid expeditions. Copious accounts of him are given by Fynes, Morrison, MacGeoghegan, and others. After the reduction of Ireland, he retired to Spain. The battle. of Tyrrell's Pass is described by MacGeoghegan, and mentioned by Leland and other historians. It was fought in the summer of 1597 at a place afterwards called Tyrrell's Pass, now the name of a town in the barony of Fertullagh, in Westmeath. When Hugh O'Neill, Earl of Tyrone, heard that the English forces were preparing to advance into Ulster under the Lord-Deputy Borrough, he detached Captain Tyrrell, at the head of 400 chosen men, to act in Meath and Leinster, and, by thus engaging some of the English forces, to cause a diversion, and prevent their joining the Lord-Deputy, or co-operate with Sir Conyers Clifford. The Anglo-Irish of Meath to the number of 1000 men Assembled under the banner of Barnwell, Baron of Trimleston, intending to proceed and join the Lord-Deputy. Tyrrell was encamped with his small force in Fertullagh, and was joined by young O'Conor Faily of the King's County. The Baron of Trimleston, having heard where Tyrrell was posted, formed the project of taking him by surprise, and for that purpose despatched his son at the head of the assembled troops. Tyrrel, having received information of their advance, immediately put himself in a posture of defence, and, making a feint of flying before them as they advanced, drew them into a defile covered with trees, which place has since been called Tyrrell's Pass, and having detached half of his men under O'Conor, they were posted in ambush in a hollow adjoining the road. When the English were passing, O'Conor and his men sallied out from their ambuscade, and with their drums and fifes played Tyrrell's March, which was the signal agreed upon for the attack. Tyrrell then rushed out on them in front, and the English being thus hemmed in on both sides, were cut to

pieces, the carnage being so great that out of their entire force only one soldier escaped, and, having fled through a marsh, carried the news to Mullingar. O'Conor displayed amazing valor, and being a inan of great strength and activity, hewed down many of their men with his own hand; while the heroic Tyrrell at the head of his men repeatedly rushed into the thick of the battle. Young Barnwell being taken prisoner, his life was spared, but he was delivered to O'Neill. A curious circumstance is mentioned by MacGeoghegan, that from the heat and excessive action of the sword arm the hand of O'Conor became so swelled that it could not be extricated from the guard of his sabre until the handle was cut through with a file."]

The baron bold of Trimleston hath gone in proud

array

To drive afar from fair Westmeath the Irish kerns

away;

And there is mounting brisk of steeds and donning shirts of mail,

And spurring hard to Mullingar 'mong riders of the Pale.

For, flocking round his banner there, from east to west there came

Full many knights and gentlemen of English blood and name;

All prompt to hate the Irish race, all spoilers of the

land,

And mustered soon a thousand spears that baron in his band.

For, trooping in rode Nettervilles and D'Altons not a

few,

And thick as reeds pranced Nugent's spears-a fierce and godless crew;

And Nagle's pennon flutters fair, and, pricking o'er the plain,

Dashed Tuite of Sonna's mail-clad men, and Dillon's from Glen-Shane.

A goodly feast the baron gave in Nagle's ancient hall,

And to his board he summons there his chiefs and captains all;

And round the red wine circles fast, with noisy boast and brag

How they would hunt the Irish kerns like any Cratloe

stag.

But 'mid their glee a horseman spurred all breathless to the gate,

And from the warder there he craved to see Lord Barnwell straight;

And when he stepped the castle hall, then cried the baron, "Ho!

You are De Petit's body-squire, why stops your master so ?"

"Sir Piers De Petit ne'er held back," that wounded man replied,

"When friend or foeman called him on, or there was need to ride;

But vainly now you lack him here, for, on the bloody sod,

The noble knight lies stark and stiff-his soul is with his God.

"For yesterday, in passing through Fertullagh's wooded glen,

Fierce Tyrrell met my master's band, and slew the good knight then;

And, wounded sore with axe and skian, I barely 'scaped with life,

To bear to you the dismal news and warn you of the strife.