The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1868-07-24

the savage 1ntrudersl Wounded and
bleeding, Brian fell beneath the
furious stabs that pierced that noble
heart! In vain the terrified boy
shrieked for aid. In vain his slight
hand clasped the handle of Brian's
pondrous sword, as il to draw it upon
his murderers. One fell purpose
filled their revengeful breasts, and
they neither saw nor heard the puny
STRIPPING. who dared to screen their
victim from their rage. The body
fell to the gronnd with n dull thud,
that struck terror to the child's
bosom. His protector, his second
father, was no more-the, lion heart
had broken! At this moment of ex-
treme pain and grief to the boy,
Donough Borohme, the conquerer,
rushed into the tent. With vail
that might almost have wakened the
dead, he knelt beside the bleeding
body of his father and his King.
He saw nothing, felt nothing, but
that murderer's hand had stricken
down the noble old warrior, until the
boy crept round and laid his cold
and trembling hand upon his shoul-
der.
"Ivar, my darling! arc you here,
too? What terrible fate led you to
this scene? And how did you escape
that savage horde?"
81 was praying beside him when
they came, and they were too mad
with rage to notice me-"
go, my child! what an escape you
have had. I must take you away
before they return" And sounding
silver bugle that hung at his belt,
his brave soldiers soon filed the tent.
"Look!" he exclaimed, slook here,
brave souls! and see the price of our
victory
They knelt down. and each one
touched the bloody vestments of the
dead, and swore eternal hate to the
murderers. One fingered long, and
gazed sadly on the calm, white face.
'"They broke the noblest heart
that ever beat, my comradesr' he
said, as he arose from his knees.
Solemn obsequies, indeed, were
those of King Brian. Not q soldier
in the army that did not drop n tear
over the glorious dead; not n heart
that did not sorrow most of all, that
they could see his face no more.
The flower of Erin's chivalry lay there
withered. The purest and grandest
heart of all the Milesian chiefs WAS
lying low, its pulses stilled forever.
But dearly as Donough Borohme
had loved the father and his King,
bitterly as he walled for his terrible
death, there was balm for his griefs,
a consolation for all his sorrows, in
the pure, unworldly love of the little
page, who had witnessed the dread
full scene of King Brian's death. He
bore him to his beautiful home, with
out any suspicion on the part of the
soldiers who accompanied him, that
the boy was other than he seemed.
Once safe within the walls, the
page was never again seen; but q
gentle little lady, who might easily
have passed as his sister, with the
same Moorish tint in lip and check,
sat at Donough's board, nestled close
beside him.
"ATen called her angel, but he call
ed her wife"
Dearer by far, because she had
seen the brave old warrior die; had
prayed all night in his fathers lonely
tent; she was the only woman he ever
loved.
The secret of her birth, and the
place where they found her secreted,
was only known to the good old
King Brian and his son. For many
years the child had dwelt in the
castle, arrayed in the dress of page,
lest by wearing the clothes of her
sex, she might be spirited away by
the people who had held her in
bondage, and who might recognize
her. When Brian and Donough went
to battle, she begged, with many
tears, to accompany them; and the
King, at last, consented to her going.
provided she would promise never to
desert his camp. where he would
leave faithful servant in charge of
her.
Here. then. the girl passed the
lonely days in tears, and prayers for
those she loved. Here, on bended
knees, she supplicated the God of
battles, all through that dreary night,
guarded by the soldier who was never
to leave her alone for moment, and
who well fulfilled the trust. And
here Brian found her, when he re-
turned, q conquerer, alas! for brief
~