 | Songs of Killarney |  |
40
THE FOSTER SISTERS.
When your mother lay dyin'
And passed to her rest,
The same gentle breast
Both our wants was supplyin',—
If for only that feelin'
I'd be yours, Lady Alice,
Though my home's but a shealin',
And the roof of a palace
Covers you, Lady Alice!
And passed to her rest,
The same gentle breast
Both our wants was supplyin',—
If for only that feelin'
I'd be yours, Lady Alice,
Though my home's but a shealin',
And the roof of a palace
Covers you, Lady Alice!
Yes! to feel but that of you,
Foster-sister, acora,
Would have left to your Nora
No choice but to love you.
Even if your fair breast
Hid a heart full of malice,
Instead of the best
In shealin' or palace,
My poor Lady Alice!
Foster-sister, acora,
Would have left to your Nora
No choice but to love you.
45
Hid a heart full of malice,
Instead of the best
In shealin' or palace,
My poor Lady Alice!
Yet just as the dew
On a lily-leaf slender
Lies tremblin' so tender
And trustful and true,
Till the sun's selfish power,
Most sudden and cruel,
Wastes away the white jewel
And withers the flower,—
So it was with poor Alice.
On a lily-leaf slender
Lies tremblin' so tender
And trustful and true,
Till the sun's selfish power,
Most sudden and cruel,
Wastes away the white jewel
And withers the flower,—
So it was with poor Alice.
For you trusted his love,
As simply confidin'
His honour and pride in,
As in heaven above;
And you married, mavrone,
Lord Arthur, Lord Arthur;
Though now, ologone,
In your grave you'd be rather
Than his wife, Lady Alice!
As simply confidin'
His honour and pride in,
As in heaven above;
46
Lord Arthur, Lord Arthur;
Though now, ologone,
In your grave you'd be rather
Than his wife, Lady Alice!
So that though I had once
A foolish ambition
For your noble condition,
Like a foolish young dunce,
Had I known, as I do,
What then was preparin'
For me and for you,
That wish I'd been sparin'
My poor Lady Alice.
A foolish ambition
For your noble condition,
Like a foolish young dunce,
Had I known, as I do,
What then was preparin'
For me and for you,
That wish I'd been sparin'
My poor Lady Alice.
And instead, then, for you
Half my hopes I'd forsaken,—
Half your troubles I'd taken,—
If only, aroo,
Through that you'd been born
Wid me in our shealin',
Safe away from his scorn
And black bitter feelin',
My poor Lady Alice!
Half my hopes I'd forsaken,—
Half your troubles I'd taken,—
If only, aroo,
47
Wid me in our shealin',
Safe away from his scorn
And black bitter feelin',
My poor Lady Alice!
| Songs of Killarney | |