Full fifty guineas were gi'en that day
To Slaney's Magic Hare
That old, old woman, the Cailleach Fay
Pining in her witche's lair.
CONVOY
In later years, as past that way in fear I trod,
Beside that ruined gabble, shunned by man and God,
A form ethereal I espied full clear, that deftly spun
An altar rug from furry spoils of many a run;
And thus 'tis whispered by night in kitchens ' sheltered keep
She'll spend her purging time away from chasms' chaos deep:
Tis said in hour of deed she saved from death full gory
Brave Father Murphy, Slaney's pride and Ireland's glory
Patrick Mac Donnell (1864)