[A beloved hound of Fionn's which Goll Mac Morna drowned in despite of Fionn.] Sore grief to me, Conbeg, that you are drowned; My little hound, for brightness without peer. Never was one so swift or deft of foot Seen in pursuit of rushing boar or deer Sore grief to me, Conbeg, that you lie drowned; My little hound, whose bay was music clear. Never was one so deft or swift of pace Found in the chase of proud, high-stepping deer. Sore grief to me, Conbeg, that you lie drowned Upon the mighty mounded grey-green sea. Your cruel loss let loose a flood of strife-- A fill of sorrow, alas! through life to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOON by HAYDEN CARRUTH PLACE FOR A THIRD by ROBERT FROST INTERRACIAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE RAINY SEASON by CLARENCE MAJOR ON A YOUNG LADY'S SIXTH ANNIVERSARY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |