O, where, Kincora is Brian the Great?
And where is the beauty that once was thine?
O, where are the princes and nobles that sate
At the feast in the halls and drank the red wine?
O, where Kincora, are the valorous lords?
O, whither, thou hospitable, are they gone?
O, where are the Dalcassians of the golden swords?
And where are the warriors Brian led on?
Where are those heroes of royal birth,
Who plundered no churches and broke no trust.
'Tis weary for me to be living on earth
When they, O Kincora, lie low in the dust.
O, never again will princes appear
To rival the Dalcassians of the cleaving swords.
I can never dream of meeting afar or near
In the east or the west such heroes and lords!
For he was Freedom's champion, one of those
The few in number who had not outstept
The charter to chastise which she bestows
On such as wield her weapons.