Written as a war song, the words feel like a speech delivered before battle. The speaker rallies his countrymen to fight Danish invaders by invoking the memory of a legendary hero, Brien the Brave. Although Brien is dead and will never return to his hall at Kinkora, his spirit still shines from the swords of those he led. That thought fuels a furious refusal to accept foreign tyranny. The poem asks impossible questions of the land itself—how could a landscape so beautiful ever be meant for slavery?—and answers with a proud, almost reckless devotion to freedom. Bleeding for liberty over a lifetime, the speaker declares, is far sweeter than a moment of chained safety. Then the tone deepens into solemn remembrance of fallen comrades, whose blood soaked the valley but who never wavered. There’s a striking image of the sun being asked not to blush if it finds the fallen died in vain—a powerful mix of guilt and resolve. The mood throughout is fierce, sorrowful, and unyielding, blending grief with a fiery call to honour the dead through victory.
War Song — Summary
Remember the Glories of Brien the Brave
Remember the glories of Brien the brave, Though the days of the hero are o'er, Though lost to Mononia and cold to the grave, He returns to Kinkora no more. That star of the field, which so often hath pour'd Its beam on the battle, is set; But enough of its glory remains on each sword, To light us to victory yet.
Mononia! when Nature embellish'd the tint Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair, Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print The footstep of slavery there? No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign, Go, tell our invaders, the Danes, That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine, Than to sleep but a moment in chains.
Forget not our wounded companions who stoood In the day of distress by our side; While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood, They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died. That sun which now blesses our arms with his light, Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain; -- Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night, To find that they fell there in vain.