His description of death in his poem on the 'Vision,' is vivid and
unconventional:--

'I had a vision in my sleep last night, between sleeping and
waking, a figure standing beside me, thin, miserable, sad, and
sorrowful; the shadow of night upon his face, the tracks of the
tears down his cheeks. His ribs were bending like the bottom of a
riddle; his nose thin, that it would go through a cambric needle;
his shoulders hard and sharp, that they would cut tobacco; his head
dark and bushy like the top of a hill; and there is nothing I can
liken his fingers to. His poor bones without any kind of covering;
a withered rod in his hand, and he looking in my face. It is not
worth my while to be talking about him; I questioned him in the
name of God.'

A long conversation follows; Raftery addresses him:--

'Whatever harbour you came from last night, move up to me and speak
if you can.' Death answers: "Put away Hebrew, Greek and Latin,
French, and the three sorts of English, and I will speak to you
sweetly in Irish, the language that you found your verses in. I am
death that has hidden hundreds: Hannibal, Pompey, Julius Cæsar; I
was in the way with Queen Helen. I made Hector fall, that conquered
the Greeks, and Conchubar, that was king of Ireland; Cuchulain and
Goll, Oscar and Diarmuid, and Oisin, that lived after the Fenians;
and the children of Usnach that brought away Deirdre from
Conchubar; at a touch from me they all fell." But Raftery answers:
"O high Prince, without height, without followers, without
dwelling, without strength, without hands, without force, without
state: all in the world wouldn't make me believe it, that you'd be