University of Virginia Library

Out away across the river,
Where the purple mountains meet,
There's as green a wood as iver,
Fenced you from the flamin' heat.
And oppòsite, up the mountain,
Seven ancient cells ye'll see,
And, below, a holy fountain
Sheltered by a sacred tree;
While between, across the tillage,
Two boreens full up wid broom
Draw ye down into a village
All in ruin on the coom;
For the most heart-breakin' story
Of the fearful famine year
On the silent wreck before ye
You may read charàctered clear.
Yous are young, too young for ever
To rec'llect the bitter blight,
How it crep across the River
Unbeknownst beneath the right;
Till we woke up in the mornin',
And beheld our country's curse
Wave abroad its heavy warnin',
Like the white plumes of a hearse.

To our gardens, heavy-hearted,
In that dreadful summer's dawn,
Young and ould away we started
Wid the basket and the slan.
But the heart within the bosom
Gave one leap of awful dread
At each darlin' pratee blossom,
White and purple, lyin' dead.
Down we dug, but only scattered
Poisoned spuds along the slope;
Though each ridge in vain it flattered
Our poor hearts' revivin' hope.
But the desperate toil we'd double
On into the evenin' shades;
Till the earth to share our trouble
Shook beneath our groanin' spades;
Till a mist across the meadows
From the graveyard rose and spread,
And 'twas rumoured ghostly shadows,
Phantoms of our fathers dead,
Moved among us, wildly sharin'
In the women's sobs and sighs,
And our stony, still despairin',
Till night covered up the skies.
Thin we knew for bitter certain
That the vinom-breathin' cloud,
Closin' still its cruel curtain,
Surely yet would be our shroud.
And the fearful sights did folly,
Och! no voice could rightly tell,
But that constant, melancholy
Murmur of the passin' bell;
Till to toll it none among us
Strong enough at last was found,
And a silence overhung us
Awfuller nor any sound.