This Battle was a key event during the Nine Years’ War, a conflict between the Gaelic Irish chieftains and the English crown. The battle occurred when English forces, attempting to assert control over Ulster, laid siege to the strategic town of Ballyshannon, which was under the control of the powerful O’Donnell clan. Despite being heavily outnumbered, the O’Donnells, led by Hugh Roe O’Donnell, successfully defended the town and castle. The English troops were repelled, suffering significant losses, and the victory bolstered the morale of the Gaelic forces, reinforcing Ballyshannon’s importance as a stronghold in the resistance against English encroachment.
In the summer of 1597, Ulster became the focal point of a three-pronged assault by British forces. In July, Sir Conyers Clifford, the Governor of Connaught, led a massive army of 4,000 horsemen and foot soldiers from Munster and Connacht, along with a naval force, across the River Erne into County Donegal. They seized the Cistercian Abbey Assaroe and laid siege to the O’Donnell castle in Ballyshannon. However, they were not prepared for the strength of Red Hugh O’Donnell, Earl of Tyrconnell, and his forces. After several days of intense and bloody fighting, known as the Battle of Ballyshannon, Red Hugh emerged victorious. He chased the retreating enemy forces southward across the ford at the top of Assaroe Falls, a place locally known as Casan na gCuraidh, or the Path of Heroes, allowing the monks to return to their monastic life.
Lord Clifford rose, O’Donnell’s foe,
Resolved to conquer Assaroe,
And march where Erne’s waters flow,
Tyrconnell to subdue.
As clouds roll onward with the wind,
With lightning flash and force combined,
He moved along, on death inclined,
To lay the hosts of Hugh.
From Thomond, where the Shannon flows
O’Brien came with warrior foes,
The Burkes of Galway martial rose,
To aid Lord Clifford then.
O’Connor Sligo, rose in might.
Arranged his forces for the fight,
And helped to swell that dreadful sight
Of many warlike men.
Then shaking earth and piercing sky
With tramp and shout and battle cry,
They raised their martial standard high
And crossed the River Erne—
Resolved Tyrconnell to enslave,
They sent their ships across the wave
Containing many a warrior brave
And Galloglass and Kerne.
At shore and fosse and tower and gate
We met that martial foe elate,
And blow for blow and hate for hate
Imparted to the crew.
Until the invaders rued the day
With hostile force they came away
Resolved in ruin black to lay
The ancient town of Hugh.
But down they fell as falls the rain,
Upon Moy Ceitua’s ancient plain—
They’ll never come with boasts again
Tyrconnell to subdue
Lord Clifford and his chieftains fled
Ignobly with the hosts they led,
Their choicest warriors lying dead
Upon the land of Hugh.
Then raise the song and strike the lyre
With fingers bold and soul of fire,
And lift your voices high—yet higher
Unto the sky of blue,
With martial flame and loud acclaim
We’ll ever sing O’Donnell’s name.
A conqueror: to us he came
The valiant son of Hugh!
