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Three Irish Bardic Tales

Being Metrical Versions of the Three Tales known as The Three Sorrows of Story-telling. By John Todhunter

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THE SWANS' LAMENT FOR THE DESOLATION OF LIR.
  
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THE SWANS' LAMENT FOR THE DESOLATION OF LIR.

1

A lost dream to us now is our home
Ullagone! Ochone-a-rie!
Gall to our heart! Oh, gall to our heart!
Ullagone! Ochone-a-rie!

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2

A hearthless home, without fire, without joy,
Without a harp, without a hound!
No talk, no laughter, no sound of song,
Ullagone for the halls of Lir!

3

Where now are the prosperous kings?
Where are the women? Where is the love?
The kiss of welcome warm on our cheeks?
The loving tongue of hounds on our hands?

4

Oh! the greatness of our mishap!
Oh! the length of our evil day!
Bitter to toss between sea and sea,
But worse the taste of a loveless home.

5

Children we left it, swans we return.
To a strange place, strangers. None lives to say:
‘These are the Children of Lir.’ A dream,
In a dream forgotten are we this night!

6

Is this the place of music we knew,
Where howls the wolf through the halls of Lir?
Where mirth in the drinking-horn was born,
Chill falls the rain on the hearth of Lir.

7

Ullagone! Ochone-a-rie!
Gall to our hearts is that sight to-night
Ullagone! Ochone-a-rie!
A lost dream to us now is our home!

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So sang they. ‘Let us go,’ Fianoula said, ‘for here
We have no more a home; back to the breezy west
Our flight must be. Now Lir, wandering in Fairyland,
Beholds a phantom sun.’ So spake she, and back they flew.