THE
WANDERER OF CONNAUGHT.
I
Oh! Norah, when wandering afar from the shade
Of the woods, where in childhood so happy we stray'd,
From eyes that are strangers, and breasts that are cold,
My heart often turns to the pleasures of old.
II
Oh! Norah, my sister, how lovely and bright
The green vales of Connaught appear to my sight;
How starts the wild tear, when in thought I survey
The cabin so neat, with its children at play!
III
What though I am doom'd with my sorrows to roam
From Erin, my land, and the glen of my home,
From the spot where the bones of my fathers repose,
And the stream, where the briar and the wild lily grows;
IV
Yet often, when midnight hangs dreary around,
And the breeze flaps the tent with a desolate sound,
On the pallet I dream of our dear shieling fire,
And the faces that circle my mother and sire!
V
I see the sweet group, and I hear their lips pray
Success to the wanderer, who roams far away.
My dear sister, Norah, again shall it be
My fate the green pastures of Connaught to see?
VI
Again to stray forth with the flocks to the field,
From grief the white hairs of my parents to shield;
And be laid, my dear Norah, when being shall cease,
With my sires who have gone to the mansions of peace?
