It is twelve years since I read in the leading article of a well-known newspaper words to this effect: "Ireland has no real hero to boast of since her mythical heroes were laid to rest : her records are sad indeed, unenlivened as they are by a single name that can bring honest pride to an Irishman's heart." Stung by the words, though I knew them to be false, I then and there determined to write a ballad to commemorate the deeds of the great Brian, snch as boys and girls would care to read. I ask no other public, and address myself to them alone.
To carry out my purpose I explored all the records of the period that were accessible to me, and was [8] rewarded by the discovery that my hero was far greater even than I had supposed, and that the invasion of Ireland by the northern nations and the battle of Clontarf were regarded by the historians of the time (whether Norse, Icelandic, or Irish) as the most momentous events of the period in which they wrote.
I have done my best to piece the information together so as to make a coherent narrative. Where the accounts were various I have chosen what seemed to me the most probable, but I have never dared to invent. Except in one instance, every word spoken by the great Brian is to be found in the old chronicles. The one scene for which I claim indulgence is the meeting between Brian and Malachy on the morning of the battle. We read that Malachy and the men of Meath joined Brian at the last moment; is it possible then to believe that Brian would have been less generous than his most generous rival, more especially if we are to accept the tradition that the banshee had revealed to Brian the issue of the battle, and foretold Malachy's reaccession as head-king? Internal evidence convinces me that the meeting took place.
With these words I send forth this eflfort of my enthusiasm. Years have passed since I wrote these verses, but I have never faltered in allegiance to my hero, the great king Brian Boru.
