 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
17
AWAKE, AWAKE, FIANNA!
Awake, awake, Fianna!
For through the shadows, see,
Great Oscur is hosting hither
Beneath the red rowan tree.
And as we march to meet him,
The minstrels together raise
On joyful harp and tympan
The mighty Oscur's praise.
For through the shadows, see,
Great Oscur is hosting hither
Beneath the red rowan tree.
And as we march to meet him,
The minstrels together raise
On joyful harp and tympan
The mighty Oscur's praise.
For height and might of stature,
A giant he stands rockfast,
And yet his foot for fleetness
Out-runneth the autumn blast.
His eyes are earnest azure,
His laughter a peal of pearls;
The coolun round his shoulders
A rain of ruddy curls.
A giant he stands rockfast,
And yet his foot for fleetness
Out-runneth the autumn blast.
His eyes are earnest azure,
His laughter a peal of pearls;
The coolun round his shoulders
A rain of ruddy curls.
Behold, behold, his chariot
Is bursting amid the foe!
Oh, hark! his dread spear hurtles;
Their leader in blood lies low.
A bard of bards is Oscur,
The moulder of mellow words,
A minstrel true is Oscur
Among the chiming chords.
Is bursting amid the foe!
Oh, hark! his dread spear hurtles;
Their leader in blood lies low.
A bard of bards is Oscur,
The moulder of mellow words,
A minstrel true is Oscur
Among the chiming chords.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |