The Lady of the Lake

Samantha McKenna

Where the towers of Tristernagh shadowed the land

Now only in ruins, its memories stand

Left to the mercy of nature’s command

It lives now but in history

This place of thorns where Monks did pray

By the still repose of Lough Iron’s bay

Where sacred bells now sunken lay

It still beholds the mystery

For by the lake, ‘neath moonlit skies

The Lady grieves, The Lady cries

Bound by sorrow, she lost her name,

To roam the halls, to hide her shame.

The leper house, her home became,

She fell as life decayed.

High, cold, grey walls concealed the mark,

Of plague’s cruel stain, held in the dark.

Alone, she left this worldly ark,

Her love and life betrayed.

But on her deathbed, in land once hallowed,

She cursed the earth and those who followed.

A Norman town in splendour rose,

Its walls were strong, to guard from foes,

A land bestowed with rich meadows

The lady’s curse still loomed.

O’Neill’s bold raiders came to claim,

And Geoghegans followed with more of same,

Plundered lands with fire and flame,

The ground the lady doomed

For on the shore, as night winds sway,

The Lady watched and made them pay.

But then Lord Sunderlin’s vision great,

Raised churches tall with wrought iron gate,

And fortune need no longer wait,

Kilbixy found prosperity.

With courts and scholars in their line,

With Shakespeare’s words they would align,

And with their wealth they built their shrine

A house of such austerity

Yet by the lake she lay in wait,

And watched them as they sealed their fate.

Debts fell swift and fortunes waned

Possessions grand, now faded, drained

Baronstown fell, its power restrained

The Malones lost their allure

No claim to make they left no heir

The line was lost, no one to share

Their halls fell cold, the fields lay bare,

Their name could not endure.

And in the ruins of Baronstown Hall,

The Lady watched this family fall.

A tomb they raised of lime and stone,

A symbol of a time long gone

A pyramid now their final home

With faithful words inscribed.

A gateway unto life it said

Where iron rails now guard the dead

Where now they sleep, all glory fled

Their fleeting triumphs died.

For by the tomb, through veils of night,

The Lady roams in spectral light.

Now ivy drapes the abbey walls,

Where monks once sang their sacred call,

And underneath where bells did fall

The eerie waters flow.

The high wall stones to dust are worn,

Its halls lie bare, its hearths forlorn,

Abandoned now its curse to mourn

A troubled tale of woe.

For by Lough Iron’s darkened shore

The Lady walks for evermore

Samantha McKenna is a member of Inklings Writing Group, who meet twice weekly: Tuesdays at 11am and Wednesdays at 7.30pm in the Annebrook House Hotel. Aspiring writers are welcome.

The Kilbixy Poetry Night for North Westmeath Hospice is on Friday August 21.