 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
84
LOVE SONGS
A SONG OF KILLARNEY
By the Lakes of Killarney one morning in May
On my pipe of green holly I warbled away,
While a blackbird high up on the arbutus tree
Gave back my gay music with gushes of glee,
When my Eileen's voice stole
From the thicket of holly
And turned just the whole
Of our fluting to folly;
And softly along
Through the myrtle and heather
The maid and her song
Swept upon us together.
On my pipe of green holly I warbled away,
While a blackbird high up on the arbutus tree
Gave back my gay music with gushes of glee,
When my Eileen's voice stole
From the thicket of holly
And turned just the whole
Of our fluting to folly;
And softly along
Through the myrtle and heather
The maid and her song
Swept upon us together.
'Twas an old Irish tale full of passionate trust
Of two faithful lovers long laid in the dust,
And her eyes as she sang looked so far, far away,
She went by me, nor knew she went by, where I lay
And myself and the grass
And the deeshy, red daisies
Should let our love pass,
Only whisp'ring her praises;
While the lass and her lay
Through the myrtle and heather
Like a dream died away,
O'er the mountain together.
Of two faithful lovers long laid in the dust,
And her eyes as she sang looked so far, far away,
She went by me, nor knew she went by, where I lay
And myself and the grass
And the deeshy, red daisies
Should let our love pass,
Only whisp'ring her praises;
While the lass and her lay
Through the myrtle and heather
Like a dream died away,
O'er the mountain together.
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IF I WERE KING OF IRELAND
My love's a match in beauty
For every flower that blows,
Her little ear's a lily,
Her velvet cheek a rose;
Her locks like gillygowans
Hang golden to her knee.
If I were king of Ireland,
My Queen she'd surely be.
For every flower that blows,
Her little ear's a lily,
Her velvet cheek a rose;
Her locks like gillygowans
Hang golden to her knee.
If I were king of Ireland,
My Queen she'd surely be.
Her eyes are fond forget-me-nots,
And no such snow is seen
Upon the heaving hawthorn bush
As crests her bodice green.
The thrushes when she's talking
Sit listening on the tree.
If I were king of Ireland,
My Queen she'd surely be.
And no such snow is seen
Upon the heaving hawthorn bush
As crests her bodice green.
The thrushes when she's talking
Sit listening on the tree.
If I were king of Ireland,
My Queen she'd surely be.
WHEN SHE ANSWERED ME HER VOICE WAS LOW
When she answered me her voice was low,
But minstrel never matched his chords
To such a wealth of warbled words
In Temora's palace long ago.
But minstrel never matched his chords
To such a wealth of warbled words
In Temora's palace long ago.
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When her eyes looked back the love in mine,
Not Erin's self upon my sight
Has started out of stormy night
With a bluer welcome o'er the brine.
Not Erin's self upon my sight
Has started out of stormy night
With a bluer welcome o'er the brine.
And no other orbs shall e'er eclipse
That magic look of maiden love,
And never song my soul shall move
Like that low sweet answer on her lips.
That magic look of maiden love,
And never song my soul shall move
Like that low sweet answer on her lips.
THE HOUR WE PARTED
The hour we parted,
When broken-hearted
You clung around me,
Maureen, aroo!
I swore I'd treasure,
Thro' pain and pleasure,
Thro' health and sickness
My love for you.
When broken-hearted
You clung around me,
Maureen, aroo!
I swore I'd treasure,
Thro' pain and pleasure,
Thro' health and sickness
My love for you.
And still that jewel,
Thro' changes cruel
Of fickle Fortune
I'll jealous guard;
Still let her vary,
The jade contràry,
If but my Mary
Be my reward.
Thro' changes cruel
Of fickle Fortune
I'll jealous guard;
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The jade contràry,
If but my Mary
Be my reward.
Yes! scorn and anger,
Distress and langour,
They're welcome willing,
The long day thro';
Could I feel certain
That ev'ning's curtain
But clos'd us nearer,
Maureen, aroo!
Distress and langour,
They're welcome willing,
The long day thro';
Could I feel certain
That ev'ning's curtain
But clos'd us nearer,
Maureen, aroo!
The dreamy shadows
Along the meadows
Go softly stealing,
And falls the dew;
And o'er the billows,
Like faithful swallows,
All, all my thoughts, dear,
Fly home to you.
Along the meadows
Go softly stealing,
And falls the dew;
And o'er the billows,
Like faithful swallows,
All, all my thoughts, dear,
Fly home to you.
With touches silken,
I see you milkin'
The crossest Kerry
In Adragole;
And like a fairy,
You're singing, Mary,
Till every keeler
Is foaming full.
I see you milkin'
The crossest Kerry
In Adragole;
And like a fairy,
You're singing, Mary,
Till every keeler
Is foaming full.
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The night is falling,
And you are calling
The cattle homeward,
With coaxing tone;
In God's own keeping,
Awake or sleeping,
'Tis now I leave you,
Maureen, mavrone!
And you are calling
The cattle homeward,
With coaxing tone;
In God's own keeping,
Awake or sleeping,
'Tis now I leave you,
Maureen, mavrone!
WITH FLUTTERING JOY
How happy for the little birds
From tree to tree, away and hither,
To pour their pretty, warbling words,
And fly with fluttering joy together!
But let the sun rejoice the skies,
Or sullen clouds his glory smother,
With heavy hearts we still must rise,
Far, far away from one another.
From tree to tree, away and hither,
To pour their pretty, warbling words,
And fly with fluttering joy together!
But let the sun rejoice the skies,
Or sullen clouds his glory smother,
With heavy hearts we still must rise,
Far, far away from one another.
Now leave those foolish, feathered things,
O Fortune, Fortune, fond and cruel!
And fit two pair of trusty wings
Upon myself and Maurya jewel,
That she and I from earth may start,
And skim the sky on angel feather,
Till from mid-heaven, heart to heart,
With fluttering joy we fall together.
O Fortune, Fortune, fond and cruel!
And fit two pair of trusty wings
Upon myself and Maurya jewel,
That she and I from earth may start,
And skim the sky on angel feather,
Till from mid-heaven, heart to heart,
With fluttering joy we fall together.
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THE FOGGY DEW
Oh! a wan cloud was drawn
O'er the dim, weeping dawn,
As to Shannon's side I returned at last;
And the heart in my breast
For the girl I loved best
Was beating—ah, beating, how loud and fast!
While the doubts and the fears
Of the long, aching years
Seemed mingling their voices with the moaning flood;
Till full in my path,
Like a wild water-wraith,
My true love's shadow lamenting stood.
O'er the dim, weeping dawn,
As to Shannon's side I returned at last;
And the heart in my breast
For the girl I loved best
Was beating—ah, beating, how loud and fast!
While the doubts and the fears
Of the long, aching years
Seemed mingling their voices with the moaning flood;
Till full in my path,
Like a wild water-wraith,
My true love's shadow lamenting stood.
But the sudden sun kissed
The cold, cruel mist
Into dancing showers of diamond dew;
The dark flowing stream
Laughed back to his beam,
And the lark soared singing aloft in the blue;
While no phantom of night,
But a form of delight
Ran with arms outspread to her darling boy:
And the girl I loved best
On my wild, throbbing breast
Hid her thousand treasures, with a cry of joy.
The cold, cruel mist
Into dancing showers of diamond dew;
The dark flowing stream
Laughed back to his beam,
And the lark soared singing aloft in the blue;
While no phantom of night,
But a form of delight
Ran with arms outspread to her darling boy:
And the girl I loved best
On my wild, throbbing breast
Hid her thousand treasures, with a cry of joy.
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I'D ROAM THE WORLD OVER WITH YOU
“I'd roam the world over and over with you,
O, Swan-neck, and Lark-voice, and Swallow-in-shoe,
My Violets and Lilies, and Rose without rue,
I'd roam the world over and over with you.”
O, Swan-neck, and Lark-voice, and Swallow-in-shoe,
My Violets and Lilies, and Rose without rue,
I'd roam the world over and over with you.”
“If I roamed the world over, fond lover, with you,
And we met the rude mountains, now what should I do?”
“They would smooth themselves straight at one stroke of your shoe,
And I'd course their crests over and over with you.”
And we met the rude mountains, now what should I do?”
“They would smooth themselves straight at one stroke of your shoe,
And I'd course their crests over and over with you.”
“My fond, foolish lover, still roaming with you,
To cross the rough river now what should we do?”
“To one great, shallow glass it would shrink from your shoe
And admire, and admire, and admire you step through.”
To cross the rough river now what should we do?”
“To one great, shallow glass it would shrink from your shoe
And admire, and admire, and admire you step through.”
“But, ah! if still roaming, rash lover, with you,
I reached the dread desert, say what could we do?”
“Your breath of soft balm would the wilderness woo
To break into blossom so heavenly of hue,
That we'd rest at long last from our roaming, aroo!”
I reached the dread desert, say what could we do?”
“Your breath of soft balm would the wilderness woo
To break into blossom so heavenly of hue,
That we'd rest at long last from our roaming, aroo!”
MY LOVE'S AN ARBUTUS
My love's an arbutus
By the borders of Lene,
So slender and shapely
In her girdle of green;
And I measure the pleasure
Of her eye's sapphire sheen
By the blue skies that sparkle
Through that soft branching screen.
By the borders of Lene,
So slender and shapely
In her girdle of green;
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Of her eye's sapphire sheen
By the blue skies that sparkle
Through that soft branching screen.
But though ruddy the berry
And snowy the flower
That brighten together
The arbutus bower,
Perfuming and blooming
Through sunshine and shower,
Give me her bright lips
And her laugh's pearly dower.
And snowy the flower
That brighten together
The arbutus bower,
Perfuming and blooming
Through sunshine and shower,
Give me her bright lips
And her laugh's pearly dower.
Alas! fruit and blossom
Shall scatter the lea,
And Time's jealous fingers
Dim your young charms, machree.
But unranging, unchanging,
You'll still cling to me,
Like the evergreen leaf
To the arbutus tree.
Shall scatter the lea,
And Time's jealous fingers
Dim your young charms, machree.
But unranging, unchanging,
You'll still cling to me,
Like the evergreen leaf
To the arbutus tree.
STILL SIDE BY SIDE
When at the altar
Together kneeling
To Heaven appealing,
My loving wife,
Without one falter
Of faith, we plighted,
With hands united,
Our troth through life.
And now, though anguish
Our souls has smitten,
Sad records written
On cheek and brow;
Doth our love languish?
Ah, no! but nearer,
Mavrone, and dearer
Our hearts beat now.
Together kneeling
To Heaven appealing,
My loving wife,
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Of faith, we plighted,
With hands united,
Our troth through life.
And now, though anguish
Our souls has smitten,
Sad records written
On cheek and brow;
Doth our love languish?
Ah, no! but nearer,
Mavrone, and dearer
Our hearts beat now.
And though hereafter
Inconstant fortune
With cruel sporting
Our lot deride;
Her mocking laughter
Can never grieve us,
If she but leave us
Still side by side.
That prayer be granted!
And closer leaning,
Each other screening
From ev'ry blast,
We'll face undaunted
Life's wintriest weather,
And fall together,
Love-linked, at last.
Inconstant fortune
With cruel sporting
Our lot deride;
Her mocking laughter
Can never grieve us,
If she but leave us
Still side by side.
That prayer be granted!
And closer leaning,
Each other screening
From ev'ry blast,
We'll face undaunted
Life's wintriest weather,
And fall together,
Love-linked, at last.
93
ROSE AND RUE
I was a maiden fair and fond,
Smiling, singing all the day;
Till Maguire, with looks of fire,
He stole my heart away.
The gard'ner's son as he stood by
Blossoms four did give to me:
The pink, the rue, the violet blue,
And the red, red rosy tree.
Smiling, singing all the day;
Till Maguire, with looks of fire,
He stole my heart away.
The gard'ner's son as he stood by
Blossoms four did give to me:
The pink, the rue, the violet blue,
And the red, red rosy tree.
Lass, for your lips the sweet clove pink,
For your eyes the violets blue;
The rose to speak your damask cheek,
For memory the rue.
Oh, but my love at first was fond,
Now, alas, he's turned untrue,
My rose and pink and violet shrink,
But tears keep fresh my rue.
For your eyes the violets blue;
The rose to speak your damask cheek,
For memory the rue.
Oh, but my love at first was fond,
Now, alas, he's turned untrue,
My rose and pink and violet shrink,
But tears keep fresh my rue.
THE FALLING STAR
On my heaven he flashed, as the meteor star
Out of night will flame from afar
Ah! how could I escape his spell?
Deep, deep into my heart he fell
Ochone!
Out of night will flame from afar
Ah! how could I escape his spell?
Deep, deep into my heart he fell
Ochone!
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I believed the stars that burn above
Shone less true than his eyes of love.
All their lamps beam on and on,
But, my falling star, thou art gone.
Ochone!
Shone less true than his eyes of love.
All their lamps beam on and on,
But, my falling star, thou art gone.
Ochone!
And a new love claims my fealty now,
Scant of speech and stern of brow.
Until death I own his claim,
Sorrow is my new love's name.
Ochone!
Scant of speech and stern of brow.
Until death I own his claim,
Sorrow is my new love's name.
Ochone!
I ONCE LOVED A BOY
I once loved a boy, and a bold Irish boy,
Far away in the hills of the West;
Ah! the love of that boy was my jewel of joy
And I built him a bower in my breast,
In my breast;
And I built him a bower in my breast.
Far away in the hills of the West;
Ah! the love of that boy was my jewel of joy
And I built him a bower in my breast,
In my breast;
And I built him a bower in my breast.
I once loved a boy, and I trusted him true,
And I built him a bower in my breast;
But away, wirrasthrue! the rover he flew,
And robbed my poor heart of its rest,
Of its rest;
And robbed my poor heart of its rest.
And I built him a bower in my breast;
But away, wirrasthrue! the rover he flew,
And robbed my poor heart of its rest,
Of its rest;
And robbed my poor heart of its rest.
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The spring-time returns, and the sweet speckled thrush
Murmurs soft to his mate on her nest,
But forever there's fallen a sorrowful hush
O'er the bower that I built in my breast,
In my breast—
O'er the desolate bower in my breast.
Murmurs soft to his mate on her nest,
But forever there's fallen a sorrowful hush
O'er the bower that I built in my breast,
In my breast—
O'er the desolate bower in my breast.
THE WHITE BLOSSOM'S OFF THE BOG
The white blossom's off the bog, and the leaves are off the trees,
And the singing birds have scattered across the stormy seas;
And, oh! 'tis winter,
Wild, wild winter!
With the lonesome wind sighing for ever through the trees.
And the singing birds have scattered across the stormy seas;
And, oh! 'tis winter,
Wild, wild winter!
With the lonesome wind sighing for ever through the trees.
How green the leaves were springing! how glad the birds were singing!
When I rested in the meadow with my head on Patrick's knees;
And, oh! 'twas spring time,
Sweet, sweet spring time!
With the daisies all dancing before me in the breeze.
When I rested in the meadow with my head on Patrick's knees;
And, oh! 'twas spring time,
Sweet, sweet spring time!
With the daisies all dancing before me in the breeze.
With the spring the fresh leaves they'll laugh upon the trees,
And the birds they'll flutter back with their songs across the seas,
But I'll never rest again with my head on Patrick's knees;
And for me 'twill be winter,
All the year winter,
With the lonesome wind sighing for ever through the trees.
And the birds they'll flutter back with their songs across the seas,
But I'll never rest again with my head on Patrick's knees;
And for me 'twill be winter,
All the year winter,
With the lonesome wind sighing for ever through the trees.
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I MAYN'T OR I MAY
And will I answer you, when you come again?
And have you a chance or two? may be one in ten.
And will I think of you, when you're far away?
That's according to my humour, I just mayn't or I may.
And have you a chance or two? may be one in ten.
And will I think of you, when you're far away?
That's according to my humour, I just mayn't or I may.
Do I feel more kind to you than I did before?
We'll say inclined to you, p'r'aps a trifle more.
Make up my mind to you? I can hardly guess.
If I couldn't, sure I shouldn't, no nor wouldn't say Yes!
We'll say inclined to you, p'r'aps a trifle more.
Make up my mind to you? I can hardly guess.
If I couldn't, sure I shouldn't, no nor wouldn't say Yes!
And will I write to you, when you write to me?
Give that delight to you? only wait and see.
And will I think of you? may be now and then.
But will you, won't you, will you, won't you soon be home again?
Give that delight to you? only wait and see.
And will I think of you? may be now and then.
But will you, won't you, will you, won't you soon be home again?
COME, SIT DOWN BESIDE ME
When first you came courting,My own heart's delight,
I met you with sporting
And saucy despite;
And of other fine fellows
I made you mad jealous,
When first you came courting,
My own heart's delight.
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My own heart's delight,
For coldly you eyed me,
Or shrank from my sight;
Or with Norah you chattered,
Or Flora you flattered,
Sitting close up beside me,
You rogue, you were right!
But sit down beside me,
My own heart's delight,
To comfort and guide me;
I'm yours from to-night!
I've teased and I've vexed you,
I've pleased and perplexed you,
But sit down beside me,
We're one from to-night!
OH, MY GRIEF! OH, MY GRIEF!
Oh, my grief, oh, my grief!
Oh, my grief all the morning!
Oh, my grief all the even!
Oh, my grief all the night!
Over flower, over leaf
Falls the shade of her scorning,
And darkens blue heaven
With its desolate blight.
Oh, my grief all the morning!
Oh, my grief all the even!
Oh, my grief all the night!
Over flower, over leaf
Falls the shade of her scorning,
And darkens blue heaven
With its desolate blight.
Oh, wind, and oh, wind
Wailing over the forest,
With thee my sad spirit
Would fain wander forth!
Thus all unconfined,
When sorrow was sorest,
I too should inherit
The strange, silent North.
Wailing over the forest,
With thee my sad spirit
Would fain wander forth!
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When sorrow was sorest,
I too should inherit
The strange, silent North.
More pure and more chaste,
Thou desolate Norland,
Than the South's sighing langours
In bowers rose-hung,
Thy wan, winter waste,
Thy still, solemn foreland,
Aurora's red angers
The white stars among.
Thou desolate Norland,
Than the South's sighing langours
In bowers rose-hung,
Thy wan, winter waste,
Thy still, solemn foreland,
Aurora's red angers
The white stars among.
MAUREEN, MAUREEN
Oh! Maureen, Maureen, have you forgotten
The fond confession that you made to me,
While round us fluttered the white bog cotton,
And o'er us waved the wild arbutus tree?
Like bits of sky bo-peeping through the bower,
No sooner were your blue eyes sought than flown,
Till, white and fluttering as the cotton flower,
Your slender hand it slipped into my own.
The fond confession that you made to me,
While round us fluttered the white bog cotton,
And o'er us waved the wild arbutus tree?
Like bits of sky bo-peeping through the bower,
No sooner were your blue eyes sought than flown,
Till, white and fluttering as the cotton flower,
Your slender hand it slipped into my own.
Oh! Maureen, Maureen, do you remember
The faithful promise that you pledged to me
The night we parted in black December
Beneath the tempest-tossed arbutus tree.
When faster than the drops from heaven flowing,
Your heavy tears they showered with ceaseless start;
And wilder than the storm-wind round us blowing,
Your bitter sobs they smote upon my heart?
The faithful promise that you pledged to me
The night we parted in black December
Beneath the tempest-tossed arbutus tree.
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Your heavy tears they showered with ceaseless start;
And wilder than the storm-wind round us blowing,
Your bitter sobs they smote upon my heart?
Oh! Maureen, Maureen, for your love only
I left my father and mother dear;
Within the churchyard they're lying lonely,
'Tis from their tombstone I've travelled here.
Their only son, you sent me o'er the billow,
Ochone! though kneeling they implored me stay;
They sickened, with no child to smooth their pillow;
They died. Are you as dead to me as they?
I left my father and mother dear;
Within the churchyard they're lying lonely,
'Tis from their tombstone I've travelled here.
Their only son, you sent me o'er the billow,
Ochone! though kneeling they implored me stay;
They sickened, with no child to smooth their pillow;
They died. Are you as dead to me as they?
Oh! Maureen, must then the love I bore you—
Seven lonesome summers of longing trust—
Turn like the fortune I've gathered for you,
Like treacherous fairy treasure, all to dust!
But, Maureen, bawn asthore, your proud lips quiver;
Into your scornful eyes the tears they start;
Your rebel hand returns to mine for ever;
Oh! Maureen, Maureen, never more we'll part.
Seven lonesome summers of longing trust—
Turn like the fortune I've gathered for you,
Like treacherous fairy treasure, all to dust!
But, Maureen, bawn asthore, your proud lips quiver;
Into your scornful eyes the tears they start;
Your rebel hand returns to mine for ever;
Oh! Maureen, Maureen, never more we'll part.
IN REASON'S DESPITE
Because when the moon shed a lustre divine,
For one magical moment her spirit met mine;
And to-day she went by
With a laugh in her eye,
Yet no soft look of promise, what quarrel have I?
I might just as well blame a beautiful star
For flashing her spell over earth from afar,
And then speeding on through the shadowy night
To some orb beyond ours her pure message of light.
For one magical moment her spirit met mine;
And to-day she went by
With a laugh in her eye,
Yet no soft look of promise, what quarrel have I?
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For flashing her spell over earth from afar,
And then speeding on through the shadowy night
To some orb beyond ours her pure message of light.
Or, because, when I've sought the Queen Rose on her throne
A chance breeze has caught her sweet breath to my own,
If that exquisite scent
By the breeze is besprent
For another's delight, shall I show discontent?
Still in reason's despite, at my heart there's a hope,
As frail yet as bright as the gossamer rope,
That shall float up to thee from life's dull prison bars,
My Rose of all roses, my Star of all stars!
A chance breeze has caught her sweet breath to my own,
If that exquisite scent
By the breeze is besprent
For another's delight, shall I show discontent?
Still in reason's despite, at my heart there's a hope,
As frail yet as bright as the gossamer rope,
That shall float up to thee from life's dull prison bars,
My Rose of all roses, my Star of all stars!
LOVE AT MY HEART
Love at my heart came knocking!
Ah! but with bitter mocking
I said him No!
Bowed and bade him go
Far, far away, heigho!
Ah! but with bitter mocking
I said him No!
Bowed and bade him go
Far, far away, heigho!
Ah! but when Love lay bleeding,
Pity, to scorn succeeding,
Turned cold disdain
Into poignant pain,
Till I too loved again.
Pity, to scorn succeeding,
Turned cold disdain
Into poignant pain,
Till I too loved again.
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Now love despised is dearest,
Now love neglected nearest;
Now late and soon,
Under sun and moon,
O, heart o' mine, keep Love's tune!
Now love neglected nearest;
Now late and soon,
Under sun and moon,
O, heart o' mine, keep Love's tune!
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |