 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
SONGS OF THE GAEL
THE MELODY OF THE HARP
Oh! Harp of Erin, what glamour gay,
What dark despairing are in thy lay!
What true love slighted thy sorrow swells,
What proud hearts plighted thy rapture tell.
Round thy dim form lamenting swarm
What Banshees dread! till, glowing warm,
A heavenly iris of hope upsprings
From out the tumult that shakes thy strings.
What dark despairing are in thy lay!
What true love slighted thy sorrow swells,
What proud hearts plighted thy rapture tell.
Round thy dim form lamenting swarm
What Banshees dread! till, glowing warm,
A heavenly iris of hope upsprings
From out the tumult that shakes thy strings.
The chief dejected with drooping brow,
Aroused, erected, is hearkening now,
The while abhorrent of shame and fear
Thy tuneful torrent invades his ear.
He calls his clan: “Who will and can—
Your chieftain follow in Valour's van!”
Then forward thunder the gallant Gael
And death and plunder are o'er the Pale.
Aroused, erected, is hearkening now,
The while abhorrent of shame and fear
Thy tuneful torrent invades his ear.
He calls his clan: “Who will and can—
Your chieftain follow in Valour's van!”
Then forward thunder the gallant Gael
And death and plunder are o'er the Pale.
The child is calling through fever dreams;
When, softly falling as faery streams,
Thy magic Soontree his soul shall sweep
Into the country of blessed sleep.
To ears that heed not their longing moan
Let lovers plead not with words alone,
But seek thine aid. The haughtiest maid
Will pause by thy sweet influence swayed;
Until the ditty so poignant proves,
She melts to pity and melting loves.
When, softly falling as faery streams,
Thy magic Soontree his soul shall sweep
Into the country of blessed sleep.
To ears that heed not their longing moan
Let lovers plead not with words alone,
But seek thine aid. The haughtiest maid
Will pause by thy sweet influence swayed;
Until the ditty so poignant proves,
She melts to pity and melting loves.
1
SONGS OF SUMMER AND WINTER
THE FIRST WINTER SONG
Take my tidings!
Stags contend;
Snows descend—
Summer's end!
Stags contend;
Snows descend—
Summer's end!
A chill wind raging;
The sun low keeping,
Swift to set
O'er seas high sweeping.
The sun low keeping,
Swift to set
O'er seas high sweeping.
Dull red the fern;
Shapes are shadows;
Wild geese mourn
O'er misty meadows.
Shapes are shadows;
Wild geese mourn
O'er misty meadows.
Keen cold limes each weaker wing.
Icy times—
Such I sing!
Take my tidings!
Icy times—
Such I sing!
Take my tidings!
2
THE FIRST SUMMER SONG
Beltane! the Season's star!
Enchanting then the colours are;
Blackbirds flute a full lay,
Be there but a dart of day.
Enchanting then the colours are;
Blackbirds flute a full lay,
Be there but a dart of day.
The loud cuckoo, of dusky hue,
Cries, “Hail! splendid hour!”
He's gone, the churl of surly brow,
Every bough is now a bower!
Cries, “Hail! splendid hour!”
He's gone, the churl of surly brow,
Every bough is now a bower!
Summer calls; the river falls;
The swift wild steed to the pool is gone;
The heath outspreads her tresses bright;
Soft and white is the cannavaun.
The swift wild steed to the pool is gone;
The heath outspreads her tresses bright;
Soft and white is the cannavaun.
Tremors take the heart of the deer;
Smooth and clear runs the tide;
Season when the ocean sleeps,
And blossom creeps the earth to hide.
Smooth and clear runs the tide;
Season when the ocean sleeps,
And blossom creeps the earth to hide.
Bees with puny strength upbear
Through the air their burden sweet;
Cows, mire-footed, mount the hill,
Ants their fill of honey eat.
Through the air their burden sweet;
Cows, mire-footed, mount the hill,
Ants their fill of honey eat.
Forest harps music sound;
The sail gathers! Peace profound!
Hue on hue the mountain takes,
In misty blue melt the lakes.
The sail gathers! Peace profound!
Hue on hue the mountain takes,
In misty blue melt the lakes.
3
A strenuous bard, the corncrake calls;
The virgin falls fill their urns,
To the panting pool descanting
Till the rushes' talk returns.
The virgin falls fill their urns,
To the panting pool descanting
Till the rushes' talk returns.
Light aloft dart the swallows!
Melody follows the green hill's round;
The soft rich mast is burgeoning fast,
The frogs in chorus croak around.
Melody follows the green hill's round;
The soft rich mast is burgeoning fast,
The frogs in chorus croak around.
Dark is the peat as the raven's coat,
The cuckoo's note bids welcome wide—
The speckled trout from the stream leaps out;
Long and strong is the warrior's stride.
The cuckoo's note bids welcome wide—
The speckled trout from the stream leaps out;
Long and strong is the warrior's stride.
Man flourishes; in fair young pride
At his side the maiden buds—
Perfect each plain, majestic, mute—
From crown to root perfect each wood.
At his side the maiden buds—
Perfect each plain, majestic, mute—
From crown to root perfect each wood.
The sunny splendour how delightful!
Winter frightful far is fled.
With flower each orchard now is white full,
Such joyous peace has summer shed!
Winter frightful far is fled.
With flower each orchard now is white full,
Such joyous peace has summer shed!
Amid the meadows, among bright petals,
Softly settles a flight of stares;
Richly around the green field rustles,
Through and through it a white stream fares.
Softly settles a flight of stares;
Richly around the green field rustles,
Through and through it a white stream fares.
4
Wild longing is on you for racing horses,
The level courses the ranked lines hold,
And such bright shafts through the blue air shiver
Each flag in the river is flashing gold.
The level courses the ranked lines hold,
And such bright shafts through the blue air shiver
Each flag in the river is flashing gold.
A little importunate one upspringing
Shrills and shrills his tremulous lay!
The lark it is, clear tidings singing
Of May of the colours, enchanting May!
Shrills and shrills his tremulous lay!
The lark it is, clear tidings singing
Of May of the colours, enchanting May!
THE SECOND WINTER SONG
Cold, cold until Doom!
The storm goes gathering gloom;
Each flashing furrow a stream;
A full lake every ford in the coom.
The storm goes gathering gloom;
Each flashing furrow a stream;
A full lake every ford in the coom.
Sea large are the scowling lakes,
Thin sleet-spears swell to an host,
Light rains clash as shields on the coast;
Like a white wether's fleece fall the flakes.
Thin sleet-spears swell to an host,
Light rains clash as shields on the coast;
Like a white wether's fleece fall the flakes.
The roadside pools are as ponds,
Each moor like a forest uplifts,
No shelter the bird-flock finds,
Breech high the stark snow drifts.
Each moor like a forest uplifts,
No shelter the bird-flock finds,
Breech high the stark snow drifts.
Swift frost has the ways in his hold,
Keen the strife around Colt's standing stone,
And the tempest so stretches her fold
That none can cry aught but “cold”!
Keen the strife around Colt's standing stone,
And the tempest so stretches her fold
That none can cry aught but “cold”!
5
THE SECOND SUMMER SONG
Summer's here! free, balm-blowing;
Down the brown wood verdure's glowing;
Slim, nimble deer are leaping;
Smooth the path of seals is showing.
Down the brown wood verdure's glowing;
Slim, nimble deer are leaping;
Smooth the path of seals is showing.
Cuckoos, echoing to each other,
Soothe to blest, restful slumber;
Gentle birds glance on the hill-side,
And swift grey stags in number.
Soothe to blest, restful slumber;
Gentle birds glance on the hill-side,
And swift grey stags in number.
Restless run the deer—behind them
Pours the curled pack, tuneful baying;
From end to end laughs the strand,
Where the excited sea is spraying.
Pours the curled pack, tuneful baying;
From end to end laughs the strand,
Where the excited sea is spraying.
By the playful breezes stirred
Drum Dail's oak tops dimly welter;
While the noble, hornless herd
Seek in Cuan wood a shelter.
Drum Dail's oak tops dimly welter;
While the noble, hornless herd
Seek in Cuan wood a shelter.
Every herb begins to sprout;
The oakwood heights with green abound;
Summer's in, winter's out!
Twisted hollies wound the hound.
The oakwood heights with green abound;
Summer's in, winter's out!
Twisted hollies wound the hound.
6
Loud the blackbird pipes his lay,
The live wood's heir from May to May;
The excited sea is lulled to sleep,
In air the speckled salmon leap.
The live wood's heir from May to May;
The excited sea is lulled to sleep,
In air the speckled salmon leap.
The sun is laughing over the land,
To the brood of cares the back of my hand!
Hounds bark, tryst the deer,
Ravens flourish, summer's here!
To the brood of cares the back of my hand!
Hounds bark, tryst the deer,
Ravens flourish, summer's here!
7
SONGS OF THE SIDHE
THE KING'S CAVE
Rash Son, return! Yon shores that dazzle
With glowing pleasaunce, glittering plain,
And crystal keep is not Hy-Brazil,
But some false phantom of the main.
And yon bright band thy vision meeting,
Their warbled welcome hither fleeting—
Oh, trust not to their siren greeting,
Oh, wave not, wave not back again!
But veil thine eyes from their entreating,
And list not their enchanting strain!
With glowing pleasaunce, glittering plain,
And crystal keep is not Hy-Brazil,
But some false phantom of the main.
And yon bright band thy vision meeting,
Their warbled welcome hither fleeting—
Oh, trust not to their siren greeting,
Oh, wave not, wave not back again!
But veil thine eyes from their entreating,
And list not their enchanting strain!
My Sovran Sire, no cruel vision
Compels my curragh o'er the deep!
Yea, have we seen the land Elysian,
Hy-Brazil, out of Ocean leap.
None ever knew it smiling nearer,
Or hearkened yet, a blessed hearer,
Its Virgin Chorus chanting clearer
O'er lulled Atlantic's cradled sleep.
That strain again! What psalm sincerer
From Angel harps to Earth could sweep.
Compels my curragh o'er the deep!
Yea, have we seen the land Elysian,
Hy-Brazil, out of Ocean leap.
None ever knew it smiling nearer,
Or hearkened yet, a blessed hearer,
Its Virgin Chorus chanting clearer
O'er lulled Atlantic's cradled sleep.
That strain again! What psalm sincerer
From Angel harps to Earth could sweep.
8
With hand to brow the Monarch hoary
Stood rapt upon the Western ray,
Till in a gulf of golden glory
The bright bark melted o'er the bay.
Then cracked the glass of calm asunder!
Then roared the cave the sea cliff under!
Then sprang to shore, with hoofs of thunder,
Mannanan's steeds of ghostly grey.
Yet ere the shock, a cry of wonder,
“Hy-Brazil here!” rose far away.
Stood rapt upon the Western ray,
Till in a gulf of golden glory
The bright bark melted o'er the bay.
Then cracked the glass of calm asunder!
Then roared the cave the sea cliff under!
Then sprang to shore, with hoofs of thunder,
Mannanan's steeds of ghostly grey.
Yet ere the shock, a cry of wonder,
“Hy-Brazil here!” rose far away.
MORE OF CLOYNE
Little sister, whom the Fay
Hides away within his doon,
Deep below yon tufted fern,
Oh, list and learn my magic tune.
Hides away within his doon,
Deep below yon tufted fern,
Oh, list and learn my magic tune.
Long ago, when snared like thee
By the Shee, my harp and I
O'er them wove the slumber spell,
Warbling well its lullaby.
By the Shee, my harp and I
O'er them wove the slumber spell,
Warbling well its lullaby.
Till with dreamy smiles they sank,
Rank on rank, before the strain;
Then I rose from out the rath
And found my path to earth again.
Rank on rank, before the strain;
Then I rose from out the rath
And found my path to earth again.
9
Little sister, to my woe
Hid below among the Shee,
List and learn my magic tune,
That it full soon may succour thee.
Hid below among the Shee,
List and learn my magic tune,
That it full soon may succour thee.
THE SONG OF THE FAIRY KING
Bright Queen of Women, oh, come away!
Oh, come to my kingdom strange to see:
Where tresses flow with a golden glow,
And white as snow is the fair body.
Beneath the silky curtains of arching ebon brows,
Soft eyes of sunny azure the heart enthral,
A speech of magic songs to each rosy mouth belongs,
And sorrowful sighing can ne'er befall.
Oh, come to my kingdom strange to see:
Where tresses flow with a golden glow,
And white as snow is the fair body.
Beneath the silky curtains of arching ebon brows,
Soft eyes of sunny azure the heart enthral,
A speech of magic songs to each rosy mouth belongs,
And sorrowful sighing can ne'er befall.
Oh, bright are the blooms of thine own Innisfail,
And green is her garland around the West;
But brighter flowers and greener bowers
Shall all be ours in that country blest.
Or can her streams compare to the runnels rich and rare
Of slow yellow honey and swift red wine,
That softly slip to the longing lip
With magic flow through that land of mine?
And green is her garland around the West;
But brighter flowers and greener bowers
Shall all be ours in that country blest.
Or can her streams compare to the runnels rich and rare
Of slow yellow honey and swift red wine,
That softly slip to the longing lip
With magic flow through that land of mine?
We roam the earth in its grief and mirth,
But move unseen of all therein;
For before their gaze there hangs the haze,
The heavy haze of their mortal sin.
But, oh! our age it wastes not; since our beauty tastes not
Of Evil's tempting apple and droops and dies.
Cold death shall slay us never but for ever and for ever
Love's stainless ardours shall illume our eyes.
But move unseen of all therein;
For before their gaze there hangs the haze,
The heavy haze of their mortal sin.
10
Of Evil's tempting apple and droops and dies.
Cold death shall slay us never but for ever and for ever
Love's stainless ardours shall illume our eyes.
Then, Queen of Women, oh, come away!
Far, far away to my fairy throne,
To my realm of rest in the magic West,
Where sin and sorrow are all unknown.
Far, far away to my fairy throne,
To my realm of rest in the magic West,
Where sin and sorrow are all unknown.
THE SONG OF NIAMH OF THE GOLDEN TRESSES
Down in the shades of Lene dark bowering
Hunting red deer through the glades gold flowering;
Oh, Finn! oh, Oscur, our glee!
When on a palfrey milk-white, a whiter one,
Shapely and slight, ah, no shapelier, slighter one,
Waved her sceptre star bright, the far brighter one—
Waved, waved in suppliant plea.
Hunting red deer through the glades gold flowering;
Oh, Finn! oh, Oscur, our glee!
When on a palfrey milk-white, a whiter one,
Shapely and slight, ah, no shapelier, slighter one,
Waved her sceptre star bright, the far brighter one—
Waved, waved in suppliant plea.
“Niamh am I of the locks gold glittering”—
O, at her cry the birds ceased twittering—
“Sole Child of The King of Youth.
Oiseen's dark eyes in dreams have haunted me,
Oiseen's song streams all day have daunted me!
I, who scatheless of Love long have vaunted me,
Ah! now know his searching truth.”
O, at her cry the birds ceased twittering—
“Sole Child of The King of Youth.
Oiseen's dark eyes in dreams have haunted me,
Oiseen's song streams all day have daunted me!
I, who scatheless of Love long have vaunted me,
Ah! now know his searching truth.”
11
“Oscur and Finn, this long farewell from me!
Nought now can win this strong, sweet spell from me!
Ochone, ochone, ollalu!”
Panting with love to make my dear bride of her,
Murmuring dove, I leaped to the side of her!
Forth, forth our white palfrey flew.
Nought now can win this strong, sweet spell from me!
Ochone, ochone, ollalu!”
Panting with love to make my dear bride of her,
Murmuring dove, I leaped to the side of her!
Forth, forth our white palfrey flew.
On through the tangled and tost cloud armament
Into star-spangled deeps of the firmament;
While sweet rang Niamh's lay,
“Come, O Oiseen, where sorrow shadeth not,
Scorn is unseen, and anger upbraideth not;
Come with thy Queen where beauty fadeth not,
Where Youth and Love are for aye!”
Into star-spangled deeps of the firmament;
While sweet rang Niamh's lay,
“Come, O Oiseen, where sorrow shadeth not,
Scorn is unseen, and anger upbraideth not;
Come with thy Queen where beauty fadeth not,
Where Youth and Love are for aye!”
THE MAGIC MIST
Dread Bard out of Desmond deep-valleyed,
Whence comest thou chanting to-night,
From thy brow to thy bosom death pallid,
Thine eyes like a seer's star-bright?
And whence, o'er thy guest seat allotted,
These strange, sudden eddies of air,
And why is the quickan flower clotted
Like foam in the flow of thy hair?
Whence comest thou chanting to-night,
From thy brow to thy bosom death pallid,
Thine eyes like a seer's star-bright?
And whence, o'er thy guest seat allotted,
These strange, sudden eddies of air,
And why is the quickan flower clotted
Like foam in the flow of thy hair?
“To and fro in high thought on the mountains
I strode in my singing-robe green,
Where Mangerton, father of fountains,
Starts sternly from lovely Loch Lene;
When around me and under and o'er me
Rang melody none may resist;
For rapture I swooned, while before me
Earth faded in magical mist.
I strode in my singing-robe green,
Where Mangerton, father of fountains,
Starts sternly from lovely Loch Lene;
12
Rang melody none may resist;
For rapture I swooned, while before me
Earth faded in magical mist.
“And there my dull body sank sleeping
'Neath quickans of quivering sway,
My soul in her song robe went sweeping
Where Cleena holds court o'er the fay—
The land where all tears are with smiling,
The land where all smiles are with tears,
Where years shrink to days of beguiling,
Days yearn into long, blessed years.”
'Neath quickans of quivering sway,
My soul in her song robe went sweeping
Where Cleena holds court o'er the fay—
The land where all tears are with smiling,
The land where all smiles are with tears,
Where years shrink to days of beguiling,
Days yearn into long, blessed years.”
“Arch minstrel of Desmond, we dread thee,
Lest, lifted to-night in our hall,
The spell of lone music that led thee
To Faery, have fettered us all.”
“Nay, fear not! though Cleena be calling,
I only her clairseach obey.
To earth the earth body is falling,
The soul soars exultant away.”
Lest, lifted to-night in our hall,
The spell of lone music that led thee
To Faery, have fettered us all.”
“Nay, fear not! though Cleena be calling,
I only her clairseach obey.
To earth the earth body is falling,
The soul soars exultant away.”
13
SONGS OF HEROES
CUCHULLIN AND EMER
CuchullinCome down, fair Emer, from out thy prison,
Emer, my love, come down to me;
For the radiant moon at last has risen
That shall light us safe to the rolling sea.
Emer
Who is the hero, half-beholden
In the beechen shadow beneath my bower,
Of mien majestic and tresses golden,
Singing thus in the still night hour?
Cuchullin
It is I, Cuchullin, thy faithful lover,
Come from afar to set thee free;
It is I that stand in the beechen cover,
Sending my heart in song to thee.
Emer
Of my father stern, alas! I fear me,
Of my brothers brave and my kinsfolk all;
Ere thy mighty hands afar can bear me,
I must pass through their bright-lit banquet hall.
14
Fear not thy kinsmen's hostile number,
Thy brothers brave and thy haughty sire;
Through the banquet hall they are stretched in slumber,
Quenched are the torches, dead the fire.
Emer
I fear for the fosse so deep and sullen,
And the watch-dogs fierce that bay on its brim;
Not for myself I fear, Cuchullin,
But lest they should rend thee limb from limb.
Cuchullin
Thy father's hounds are my old companions,
They will fawn at my feet till, as eagles float
Out from the rock with their young on their pinions,
With thee at my bosom I leap the moat.
Emer
Every Sept is our kinship boasting
Over Bregia north to Dun-Lir;
They will follow at dawn with such a hosting,
Alas! alas! for thy life I fear.
Cuchullin
See! how my war-car bounds in the shadows,
Light as a golden boat on the bay!
Lo! my good steeds! that athwart the meadows
Tempest-footed shall whirl us away.
15
Good-bye! for ever my father, my father,
For a loving heart to me you bore.
Good-bye, fair Lusk, I shall never gather
Thy sweet wild blossoms and berries more.
Good-bye for ever, fortress of power,
And the lawn, and the beeches, I loved so well!
Good-bye for ever, my maiden bower,
Where Love first laid me under his spell!
My father—a bitter wrong I do him;
But thus, even thus, his power is past.
As the sea draws the little Tolka to him,
Thou hast drawn me, Cuchullin, to thee at last.
Like a god to his earthly mistress bending
Thou hast stooped for thy bride from the hills above.
I would die, Cuchullin, thy life defending,
And, oh, let me die if I lose thy love!
EMER'S FAREWELL TO CUCHULLIN
O might a maid confess her secret longing
To one who dearly loves but may not speak!
Alas! I had not hidden to thy wronging
A bleeding heart beneath a smiling cheek;
I had not stemmed my bitter tears from starting,
And thou hadst learned my bosom's dear distress,
And half the pain, the cruel pain of parting,
Had passed, Cuchullin, in thy fond caress.
To one who dearly loves but may not speak!
Alas! I had not hidden to thy wronging
A bleeding heart beneath a smiling cheek;
I had not stemmed my bitter tears from starting,
And thou hadst learned my bosom's dear distress,
And half the pain, the cruel pain of parting,
Had passed, Cuchullin, in thy fond caress.
16
But go! Connacia's hostile trumpets call thee,
Thy chariot mount and ride the ridge of war,
And prove whatever feat of arms befall thee,
The hope and pride of Emer of Lismore;
Ah, then return, my hero, girt with glory,
To knit my virgin heart so near to thine,
That all who seek thy name in Erin's story
Shall find its loving letters linked with mine.
Thy chariot mount and ride the ridge of war,
And prove whatever feat of arms befall thee,
The hope and pride of Emer of Lismore;
Ah, then return, my hero, girt with glory,
To knit my virgin heart so near to thine,
That all who seek thy name in Erin's story
Shall find its loving letters linked with mine.
CUCHULLIN'S LAMENT OVER FERDIAH
Oh, mightiest of the host of Maev,
Ferdiah, sweetest mouth of song,
Heroic arm most swift and strong
To slaughter or to save.
Ferdiah, sweetest mouth of song,
Heroic arm most swift and strong
To slaughter or to save.
Oh, curls, oh, softly rustling wreath
Of yellow curls that round him rolled,
One beauteous belt of glistering gold—
Who laid you low in death?
Of yellow curls that round him rolled,
One beauteous belt of glistering gold—
Who laid you low in death?
Blue eyes that beamed with friendship bright
Upon me through the battle press,
Or o'er the mimic field of chess—
Who quenched your kingly light?
Upon me through the battle press,
Or o'er the mimic field of chess—
Who quenched your kingly light?
Alas, Ferdiah, overthrown
By this red hand at last you fell!
My bosom's brother, was it well?
Ochone, ochone, ochone!
By this red hand at last you fell!
My bosom's brother, was it well?
Ochone, ochone, ochone!
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.
18
THE ROYAL HUNT
Tantara rara, hark from Tara, how the herald's trumpet clear
Gaily summons King and Commons to the hunting of the deer;
And now the Ard Righ rides before us, circled by his shining court;
Whilst the crowd's acclaiming chorus hails him to the happy sport,
And tantara, tantara, tantara, tantara, hark the bugles' greeting
Soft echoes, re-echoes, re-echoes, and echoes far into the distance retreating.
Tantara rara, lirra lara! sweet the silver bugles blow,
Dogs are doubting, footmen shouting hunt the covers high and low.
Gaily summons King and Commons to the hunting of the deer;
And now the Ard Righ rides before us, circled by his shining court;
Whilst the crowd's acclaiming chorus hails him to the happy sport,
And tantara, tantara, tantara, tantara, hark the bugles' greeting
Soft echoes, re-echoes, re-echoes, and echoes far into the distance retreating.
Tantara rara, lirra lara! sweet the silver bugles blow,
Dogs are doubting, footmen shouting hunt the covers high and low.
Now uncouple Bran the supple, Bran and Scolan swift as flame!
Loose us Laom, loose us Taom, free us ev'ry hound of fame!
The stag is started in the hollow! Hark, the huntsman's view halloo!
Hark, the hounds in chorus follow! Hulla hulla, hulla hoo!
While tantara, tantara, fainter and fainter the horn is now replying,
And further, and further, and further, and further—the hunt in the distance is dying.
Tantara rara now from Tara over hill and dale we go,
While we chevy, yoicks, tantivy, tally, tally, tallyho!
Loose us Laom, loose us Taom, free us ev'ry hound of fame!
The stag is started in the hollow! Hark, the huntsman's view halloo!
Hark, the hounds in chorus follow! Hulla hulla, hulla hoo!
While tantara, tantara, fainter and fainter the horn is now replying,
And further, and further, and further, and further—the hunt in the distance is dying.
Tantara rara now from Tara over hill and dale we go,
While we chevy, yoicks, tantivy, tally, tally, tallyho!
19
ANCIENT LULLABY
O sleep, my baby, you are sharing
With the sun in rest repairing;
While the moon her silver chair in
Watches with your mother.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
With the sun in rest repairing;
While the moon her silver chair in
Watches with your mother.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
The morning on a bed of roses,
Evening on rude hills reposes:
Dusk his heavy eyelid closes
Under dreamy curtains.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
Evening on rude hills reposes:
Dusk his heavy eyelid closes
Under dreamy curtains.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
The winds lie lulled on bluest billows,
Shining stars on cloudy pillows,
Waters under nodding willows,
Mists upon the mountains.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
Shining stars on cloudy pillows,
Waters under nodding willows,
Mists upon the mountains.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
Upon the fruits, upon the flowers,
On the wood-birds in their bowers,
On low huts and lofty towers
Blessed sleep has fallen.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
On the wood-birds in their bowers,
On low huts and lofty towers
Blessed sleep has fallen.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
20
And, ah! my child, as free from cumber,
Thus thro' life could'st thou but slumber,
Thus in death go join the number
Of God's smiling angels.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
Thus thro' life could'st thou but slumber,
Thus in death go join the number
Of God's smiling angels.
Shoheen, sho lo!
Lulla lo lo!
OISEEN'S LAMENT FOR OSCUR
I sought my own son over Gowra's black field,
Where the host of the Fians was shattered,
Where fell all our mighty ones, and helmet and shield
O'er the red earth lay shamefully scattered.
I sought my own Oscur and my proud heart upleaped,
As at last on a lone ridge I found him,
His stern hand still clinging to the sword that had reaped
Swathe on swathe of the dead foes around him.
Where the host of the Fians was shattered,
Where fell all our mighty ones, and helmet and shield
O'er the red earth lay shamefully scattered.
I sought my own Oscur and my proud heart upleaped,
As at last on a lone ridge I found him,
His stern hand still clinging to the sword that had reaped
Swathe on swathe of the dead foes around him.
He held out his arms, though the drear mist of death
Had begun o'er his bright eyes to gather.
“I thank God,” he faltered with his failing breath,
“That thou still art unhurt, oh, my father.”
Then down, down I knelt by my heart's dearest one,
All else beside him forgetting;
Till Oscur's proud spirit passed forth like the sun
In a red sea of glory setting.
Had begun o'er his bright eyes to gather.
“I thank God,” he faltered with his failing breath,
“That thou still art unhurt, oh, my father.”
Then down, down I knelt by my heart's dearest one,
All else beside him forgetting;
Till Oscur's proud spirit passed forth like the sun
In a red sea of glory setting.
PATRICK AND OISEEN.
Oiseen, Oiseen, too long is thy slumber.
Oiseen, arise, and give ear to the chant;
Thy force hath forsook thee, thy battles are over,
And without us, old man, thou would'st perish of want.
Oiseen, arise, and give ear to the chant;
Thy force hath forsook thee, thy battles are over,
And without us, old man, thou would'st perish of want.
21
“My force hath forsook me, my battles are over;
Since, alas! the famed empire of Finn is no more,
And without you, indeed, 'tis for want I should perish,
But, since Finn, sweetest music is music no more.”
Since, alas! the famed empire of Finn is no more,
And without you, indeed, 'tis for want I should perish,
But, since Finn, sweetest music is music no more.”
“Nay, foolish old man, for all of thy vaunting,
Of the loud Dord-Finn chorus, the tympan and horn,
Thou hast never heard music like matin bells ringing,
Or solemn psalms sung in the still summer morn.”
Of the loud Dord-Finn chorus, the tympan and horn,
Thou hast never heard music like matin bells ringing,
Or solemn psalms sung in the still summer morn.”
“Though greatly thou praisest the chants of the clerics,
I had rather lie listening down in the dale
To the voice of the cuckoo of Letterkee calling;
Or the very sweet thrushes of green Glenn-a-Sgail;
I had rather lie listening down in the dale
To the voice of the cuckoo of Letterkee calling;
Or the very sweet thrushes of green Glenn-a-Sgail;
“Or the song of the blackbird of Derrycarn gushing
So full and so free in the woods of the West
(Oh, Patrick, no hymn under heaven could approach it!
Ah, would that I only were under his nest!).
So full and so free in the woods of the West
(Oh, Patrick, no hymn under heaven could approach it!
Ah, would that I only were under his nest!).
“And I'd far liefer hearken the eagle's fierce whistle,
From lone Glenamoo or the Ridge by the Stream,
Or list the loud thunder of rushing Tra-Rury,
Or catch on rough Irrus the sea-gull's scream.
From lone Glenamoo or the Ridge by the Stream,
Or list the loud thunder of rushing Tra-Rury,
Or catch on rough Irrus the sea-gull's scream.
“And I'd bid long good-bye to the bells of the clerics,
Could I once again follow o'er mountain and moor
The tune of the twelve fleetest wolf hounds of Erin
Let loose with their faces away from the Suir.
Could I once again follow o'er mountain and moor
The tune of the twelve fleetest wolf hounds of Erin
Let loose with their faces away from the Suir.
22
“And Cnu, little Cnu of my bosom, where art thou?
O small fairy dwarf to the Finians so dear,
Whose harp ever soothed all our sorrows to slumber,
Ah, Cnu, little Cnu, how I would you were here.
O small fairy dwarf to the Finians so dear,
Whose harp ever soothed all our sorrows to slumber,
Ah, Cnu, little Cnu, how I would you were here.
“Where is now your betrothed one, oh, Cnu, where is Blathnaid?
Who stood up in beauty to sing when you played;
For the mouth of no mortal such sweetness could utter
As the soft, rosy mouth of that magical maid.”
Who stood up in beauty to sing when you played;
For the mouth of no mortal such sweetness could utter
As the soft, rosy mouth of that magical maid.”
23
SONGS OF GAEL AND GALL
THE ALARM
Hurry down, hurry down, hurry down ever,
From the wrack-ridden mountain and yellow, rushing river!
Stern horsemen and footmen with spear, axe and quiver,
Oh, hurry down, hurry down, your land to deliver!
Haste, oh, haste! for in cruel might clustering,
Far and near the fierce Nordman is mustering;
Haste, oh, haste! or the daughters ye cherish,
The bride of your bosom shall far more than perish!
From the wrack-ridden mountain and yellow, rushing river!
Stern horsemen and footmen with spear, axe and quiver,
Oh, hurry down, hurry down, your land to deliver!
Haste, oh, haste! for in cruel might clustering,
Far and near the fierce Nordman is mustering;
Haste, oh, haste! or the daughters ye cherish,
The bride of your bosom shall far more than perish!
Lo! how he toils down that narrow pass yonder,
Ensnared by his spoils and oppressed by his plunder!
Flash on him, crash on him, God's fire and thunder!
And scatter and shatter his fell ranks asunder!
Oh, smite the wolf, ere he slinks from the slaughter!
Oh, rend the shark, ere he wins to deep water!
Pursue and hew him to pieces by the haven,
And feast with his red flesh the exulting sea raven!
Ensnared by his spoils and oppressed by his plunder!
Flash on him, crash on him, God's fire and thunder!
And scatter and shatter his fell ranks asunder!
Oh, smite the wolf, ere he slinks from the slaughter!
Oh, rend the shark, ere he wins to deep water!
Pursue and hew him to pieces by the haven,
And feast with his red flesh the exulting sea raven!
BATTLE HYMN
Above the thunder crashes,
Around the lightning flashes:
Our heads are heaped with ashes!
But Thou, God, art nigh!
Thou launchest forth the levin,
The storm by Thee is driven,
Give heed, O Lord, from heaven,
Hear, hear our cry.
Around the lightning flashes:
Our heads are heaped with ashes!
But Thou, God, art nigh!
24
The storm by Thee is driven,
Give heed, O Lord, from heaven,
Hear, hear our cry.
For, lo! the Dane defaces
With fire Thy holy places,
He hews Thy priests in pieces,
Our maids more than die.
Up, Lord, with storm and thunder,
Pursue him with his plunder,
And smite his ships in sunder,
Lord God, Most High!
With fire Thy holy places,
He hews Thy priests in pieces,
Our maids more than die.
Up, Lord, with storm and thunder,
Pursue him with his plunder,
And smite his ships in sunder,
Lord God, Most High!
THE RETURN FROM FINGAL
Moan, ye winds, ye caverns call
“Orro, orro!” to our sorrow,
While we bear 'neath one black pall
Brian, Murrough, from Fingal.
Still though wasted, wounded, weary,
On, Dalcassians! to your eyrie,
Eagles, crying from your crag,
“We have rent the Raven's flag.”
“Orro, orro!” to our sorrow,
While we bear 'neath one black pall
Brian, Murrough, from Fingal.
Still though wasted, wounded, weary,
On, Dalcassians! to your eyrie,
Eagles, crying from your crag,
“We have rent the Raven's flag.”
How O'Brien's banshee cried,
Wailing, warning, ere that morning,
When the Lochlan in his pride
Whitened all the ocean side.
Sea-kings stern from Norway's highlands,
Pirate chiefs from Orkney's Islands,
Lords of Leinster, Britain, Wales,
By the shore a thousand sails!
Wailing, warning, ere that morning,
When the Lochlan in his pride
Whitened all the ocean side.
25
Pirate chiefs from Orkney's Islands,
Lords of Leinster, Britain, Wales,
By the shore a thousand sails!
“On this day,” great Brian cried
To the foeman, “Jew and Roman
Christ, our Saviour, crucified.
Hold we truce till Easter-tide!”
Loud rang back their impious laughter,
“Fight comes first, thanksgiving after!”
“Perish then, with shameful loss,
Howling fiends before the Cross!”
To the foeman, “Jew and Roman
Christ, our Saviour, crucified.
Hold we truce till Easter-tide!”
Loud rang back their impious laughter,
“Fight comes first, thanksgiving after!”
“Perish then, with shameful loss,
Howling fiends before the Cross!”
Plait and Donnell brand to brand
First in raging wrath engaging,
Heart pierced by each other's hand,
Fell together on the strand.
Then before the sword of Murrough
Fled the Dane; till to our sorrow
Anrud, Norway's champion dread,
Murrough met—and both lay dead.
First in raging wrath engaging,
Heart pierced by each other's hand,
Fell together on the strand.
Then before the sword of Murrough
Fled the Dane; till to our sorrow
Anrud, Norway's champion dread,
Murrough met—and both lay dead.
But our rallying cry awoke,
“Kian, Kian, Desmond's lion!”
And, at Kian's dreadful stroke,
Reeled the Lochlan ranks and broke.
“Now with strains of martial glory
To the King to tell our story,”
But we found great Brian low;
Och, ochone! och ullalo!
“Kian, Kian, Desmond's lion!”
And, at Kian's dreadful stroke,
Reeled the Lochlan ranks and broke.
“Now with strains of martial glory
To the King to tell our story,”
But we found great Brian low;
Och, ochone! och ullalo!
26
Moan, ye winds, ye caverns call
“Orro, orro!” to our sorrow,
While we bear 'neath one black pall
Brian, Murrough, from Fingal.
Still though wasted, wounded, weary,
On, Dalcassians! to your eyrie,
Eagles, crying from your crag,
“We have rent the Raven's flag.”
“Orro, orro!” to our sorrow,
While we bear 'neath one black pall
Brian, Murrough, from Fingal.
Still though wasted, wounded, weary,
On, Dalcassians! to your eyrie,
Eagles, crying from your crag,
“We have rent the Raven's flag.”
27
SONGS OF CHIEFTAINS
THE MARCH OF THE MAGUIRE
My grief, Hugh Maguire,
That to-night you must go
To wreak your just ire
On our murderous foe;
For, hark! as the blast
Thro' the bowed wood raves past,
The great oaks, aghast,
Rock, reel and crash below.
That to-night you must go
To wreak your just ire
On our murderous foe;
For, hark! as the blast
Thro' the bowed wood raves past,
The great oaks, aghast,
Rock, reel and crash below.
Uncheered of your spouse,
Without comfort or care,
All night you must house
In some lone, shaggy lair;
The lightning your lamp,
For your sentry the tramp
Of the thunder round your camp;
Hark! 'tis there, 'tis there!
Without comfort or care,
All night you must house
In some lone, shaggy lair;
The lightning your lamp,
For your sentry the tramp
Of the thunder round your camp;
Hark! 'tis there, 'tis there!
But to-morrow your sword
More terrific shall sweep
On our foe's monstrous horde
Than this storm o'er the steep;
And his mansions limewhite
Flame with fearfuller light
Than yon bolts thro' black night
Hurled blazing down the deep.
More terrific shall sweep
On our foe's monstrous horde
Than this storm o'er the steep;
And his mansions limewhite
Flame with fearfuller light
Than yon bolts thro' black night
Hurled blazing down the deep.
28
CHIEFTAIN OF TYRCONNELL
Sore misery to Erin that you spread
Your sails for far-off Espan, Hugh the Red!
But sorest doom that on a foreign strand
Quenched your keen eye, and from your falt'ring hand
Struck down the faithful brand.
Your sails for far-off Espan, Hugh the Red!
But sorest doom that on a foreign strand
Quenched your keen eye, and from your falt'ring hand
Struck down the faithful brand.
Who now for us shall sweep the cattle spoil
In bellowing tumult o'er the foamy Foyle?
And till the steers are driv'n dispersed to sward,
Hurl back, like thee, the Avenger from the ford,
Hugh O'Donnell of the Sword?
In bellowing tumult o'er the foamy Foyle?
And till the steers are driv'n dispersed to sward,
Hurl back, like thee, the Avenger from the ford,
Hugh O'Donnell of the Sword?
Who now upon the plunderers from the Pale
Shall wreck the fiery vengeance of the Gael?
With sudden onslaught strike the Saxon crew
And smite them as you smote them, through and through—
Chieftain of Tyrconnell, who?
Shall wreck the fiery vengeance of the Gael?
With sudden onslaught strike the Saxon crew
And smite them as you smote them, through and through—
Chieftain of Tyrconnell, who?
Last, who like thee, with comforts manifold
Shall keep and cherish sick and poor and old?
For, ah! thy open ever-flowing store
Of food and drink and clothing, maet galore,
Fails them now for evermore.
Shall keep and cherish sick and poor and old?
For, ah! thy open ever-flowing store
Of food and drink and clothing, maet galore,
Fails them now for evermore.
29
THE FLIGHT OF THE EARLS
To other shores across the sea
We speed with swelling sail;
Yet still there lingers on our lee
A phantom Innisfail.
Oh, fear not, fear not, gentle ghost,
Your sons shall turn untrue!
Though fain to fly your lovely coast,
They leave their hearts with you.
We speed with swelling sail;
Yet still there lingers on our lee
A phantom Innisfail.
Oh, fear not, fear not, gentle ghost,
Your sons shall turn untrue!
Though fain to fly your lovely coast,
They leave their hearts with you.
As slowly into distance dim
Your shadow sinks and dies,
So o'er the ocean's utmost rim
Another realm shall rise;
New hills shall swell, new vales expand,
New rivers winding flow,
But could we for a foster land
Your mother love forego?
Your shadow sinks and dies,
So o'er the ocean's utmost rim
Another realm shall rise;
New hills shall swell, new vales expand,
New rivers winding flow,
But could we for a foster land
Your mother love forego?
Shall mighty Espan's martial praise
Our patriot pulses still,
And o'er your memory's fervent rays
For ever cast a chill?
Oh no! we live for your relief,
Till, home from alien earth,
We share the smile that gilds your grief,
The tear that gems your mirth.
Our patriot pulses still,
And o'er your memory's fervent rays
For ever cast a chill?
Oh no! we live for your relief,
Till, home from alien earth,
We share the smile that gilds your grief,
The tear that gems your mirth.
30
LOVED BRIDE OF O'BYRNE
Oh! loud keens the wind by peak and pass
From Lugnaquillia to lone Kippure,
Fierce, fierce fall the flakes in Glenmacnass,
Deep mounts the drift in Glenmalure.
But shrill as the shrillest blasts that blow,
Ochone! The Gaval Rannall cry,
For whiter, colder, stiller than the snow,
Loved Bride of our O'Byrne, you lie.
From Lugnaquillia to lone Kippure,
Fierce, fierce fall the flakes in Glenmacnass,
Deep mounts the drift in Glenmalure.
But shrill as the shrillest blasts that blow,
Ochone! The Gaval Rannall cry,
For whiter, colder, stiller than the snow,
Loved Bride of our O'Byrne, you lie.
Black, black o'er the mountains cloud on cloud
Comes gliding while we bear beneath
White, white on our shoulders in her shroud,
Our dearest to the door of death.
Ah! hark, how wild Avonbeg above
Wails back to moaning Avonmore,
“For ever now the faithful lamp of love
Is quenched in frowning Ballin'core.”
Comes gliding while we bear beneath
White, white on our shoulders in her shroud,
Our dearest to the door of death.
Ah! hark, how wild Avonbeg above
Wails back to moaning Avonmore,
“For ever now the faithful lamp of love
Is quenched in frowning Ballin'core.”
LAMENT FOR OWEN ROE O'NEILL
Oh! black breaks the morrow in tempest and gloom,
When we bear to our sorrow O'Neill to the tomb.
Whilst with wailing and weeping the long, long train
Comes woefully weeping o'er Uladh's dark plain.
When we bear to our sorrow O'Neill to the tomb.
Whilst with wailing and weeping the long, long train
Comes woefully weeping o'er Uladh's dark plain.
31
'Twas not reaving their cattle, you fell, Owen Roe,
Or in red, raging battle, your face to the foe.
But the black snake of treason they sent, O'Neill,
To pierce you with poison since you scoffed at their steel.
Or in red, raging battle, your face to the foe.
But the black snake of treason they sent, O'Neill,
To pierce you with poison since you scoffed at their steel.
Oh! leader God-gifted, oh! arm stern of stroke,
That well-nigh had lifted from our shoulders the yoke,
Your death-bell is ringing our doom, our doom,
For with you we are bringing our hopes to the tomb!
That well-nigh had lifted from our shoulders the yoke,
Your death-bell is ringing our doom, our doom,
For with you we are bringing our hopes to the tomb!
HEROINES OF LIMERICK
Faugh-a-balleach! Munster men,
Once more your dogged foe defying,
Though ye count as one to ten,
Forth, forth to rout the Dutch again!
Once more your dogged foe defying,
Though ye count as one to ten,
Forth, forth to rout the Dutch again!
Faugh-a-balleach! 'Tis for greed
They strike, but we for Faith and Freedom;
For a despot's throne they bleed,
But we for Erin's sacred need.
They strike, but we for Faith and Freedom;
For a despot's throne they bleed,
But we for Erin's sacred need.
Faugh-a-balleach! At your side
With shot and shell and rifle ready,
Pale and gaunt and hollow-eyed,
Stand Mother, Daughter, Sister, Bride.
With shot and shell and rifle ready,
Pale and gaunt and hollow-eyed,
Stand Mother, Daughter, Sister, Bride.
Faugh-a-balleach! Hark! they cry,
“We, too, are here to share your glory;
Or if dark defeat be nigh,
With you the proudest death to die!”
“We, too, are here to share your glory;
Or if dark defeat be nigh,
With you the proudest death to die!”
32
ROSEEN DHU
I. THE SHADOW OF A DREAM
O! sorrowful dream of the past
That dissolved in the morn's magic ray,
Why again is thy grey shadow cast
Like a false, fairy mist o'er my way?
That dissolved in the morn's magic ray,
Why again is thy grey shadow cast
Like a false, fairy mist o'er my way?
Yet the war-ships ride on through the bay
With the King's flag aflame from each mast.
Oh! Liberty, when shall thy day
Light the pale brows of Erin at last?
With the King's flag aflame from each mast.
Oh! Liberty, when shall thy day
Light the pale brows of Erin at last?
II. MY ROSE OF HOPE.
For Erin's sake I've faced the field of slaughter,
I've shared her smiles and mixed with hers my tears,
And, oh! her rarest, fairest, fondest daughter
Is now my rose of hope, my rue of fears.
I've shared her smiles and mixed with hers my tears,
And, oh! her rarest, fairest, fondest daughter
Is now my rose of hope, my rue of fears.
Yet, when we parted in the forest shadow,
Oh! there was that within her wondrous eyes
That sent me singing down the primrose meadow,
As if I'd found the path to Paradise!
Oh! there was that within her wondrous eyes
That sent me singing down the primrose meadow,
As if I'd found the path to Paradise!
33
III. HER ANSWER
The earth is as green as fairy rings,
The air one flutter and flash of wings,
The heath and clover a-buzz with bees
And white, white over the hawthorn trees;
The air one flutter and flash of wings,
The heath and clover a-buzz with bees
And white, white over the hawthorn trees;
While up, high up, on his sunbeam stair,
The lark goes dancing my joy to share;
For, oh! by his song he surely knows
The answer I've won from my little dark Rose!
The lark goes dancing my joy to share;
For, oh! by his song he surely knows
The answer I've won from my little dark Rose!
IV. THE CLARION'S CALL
The clarion's crying! the drum's replying;
From cliff to cave the beacons wave
Their fiery fingers, now he who lingers
Is but a slave—a crouching slave!
From cliff to cave the beacons wave
Their fiery fingers, now he who lingers
Is but a slave—a crouching slave!
Adieu! adieu! my Roseen Dhu,
Adieu! adieu! adieu! adieu!
“O draw your rein,” she cried again
“O! let me bide with you!
Let me ride with you!”
Adieu! adieu! adieu! adieu!
“O draw your rein,” she cried again
“O! let me bide with you!
Let me ride with you!”
So together, by hills of heather
And moorland brown, we thundered down,
With glancing steel and dancing feather,
To Limerick town, to Limerick town.
And moorland brown, we thundered down,
With glancing steel and dancing feather,
To Limerick town, to Limerick town.
34
Now o'er the Shannon,
With roaring cannon
And roll of drums, our foeman comes;
His carbines rattle!
O, God of battle,
Our cause defend unto the end!
With roaring cannon
And roll of drums, our foeman comes;
His carbines rattle!
O, God of battle,
Our cause defend unto the end!
V. SHE STOOD AT MY SIDE
She stood at my side, my bride, my own Roseen Dhu,
Though with death laden bullet on bullet the air was athrill,
In her fair bloom to dare doom,
While the foe ever fiercer grew,
To the storm flying swarm upon swarm;
Yet we beat them backward still.
Though with death laden bullet on bullet the air was athrill,
In her fair bloom to dare doom,
While the foe ever fiercer grew,
To the storm flying swarm upon swarm;
Yet we beat them backward still.
But with fell fireballs still battering our walls till they brake,
Again to the onset flashed the fierce Saxon stream.
Then with white hand a bright brand
Waving, “Onward!” she cried, “for Erin's sake!”
Down we leapt, on we sternly swept,
Till we clashed in the shock supreme.
Again to the onset flashed the fierce Saxon stream.
Then with white hand a bright brand
Waving, “Onward!” she cried, “for Erin's sake!”
Down we leapt, on we sternly swept,
Till we clashed in the shock supreme.
But as their spear hedge, like sedge, mowing down amain,
Out, out of the city we hurled our headlong foes,
Through the dread shout and the red rout,
Where she cheered our charge to the plain,
Shrieked a shell! dead my darling fell!
Oh! my grief! Oh! my woe of woes!
Out, out of the city we hurled our headlong foes,
Through the dread shout and the red rout,
Where she cheered our charge to the plain,
Shrieked a shell! dead my darling fell!
Oh! my grief! Oh! my woe of woes!
35
Oh! sorrowful shades of the Past,
Caught for one magic moment away,
Again you are gathering fast,
Like false, fairy mists o'er our way!
Caught for one magic moment away,
Again you are gathering fast,
Like false, fairy mists o'er our way!
36
THE WILD GEESE
AH, WHY, PATRICK SARSFIELD
Ah, why, Patrick Sarsfield, did we let your ships sail
Away to French Flanders from green Innisfail?
For far from your country you lie cold and low;
Ah, why, Patrick Sarsfield, ah, why did you go?
Away to French Flanders from green Innisfail?
For far from your country you lie cold and low;
Ah, why, Patrick Sarsfield, ah, why did you go?
We pray'd, Patrick Sarsfield, to see you sail home,
Your flag waving victory above the white foam.
But still in our fetters, poor slaves, we live on;
For, oh, Patrick Sarsfield, for, oh, you are gone!
Your flag waving victory above the white foam.
But still in our fetters, poor slaves, we live on;
For, oh, Patrick Sarsfield, for, oh, you are gone!
SHULE AGRA!
His hair was black, his eye was blue,
His arm was stout, his word was true;
I wish in my heart I was with you!
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
His arm was stout, his word was true;
I wish in my heart I was with you!
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
37
'Tis oft I sat on my true love's knee,
Many a fond story he told to me,
He told me things that ne'er shall be,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Many a fond story he told to me,
He told me things that ne'er shall be,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
I sold my rock, I sold my reel;
When my flax was spun I sold my wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
When my flax was spun I sold my wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
But when King James was forced to flee,
The Wild Geese spread their wings to sea,
And bore mabouchal far from me,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
The Wild Geese spread their wings to sea,
And bore mabouchal far from me,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
I saw them sail from Brandon Hill,
Then down I sat and cried my fill,
That every tear would turn a mill,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Then down I sat and cried my fill,
That every tear would turn a mill,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
38
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
I wish the King would return to reign,
And bring my true love back again;
I wish, and wish, but I wish in vain,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
And bring my true love back again;
I wish, and wish, but I wish in vain,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
I'll dye my petticoat, I'll dye it red,
And round the world I'll beg my bread,
Till I find my love alive or dead,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
And round the world I'll beg my bread,
Till I find my love alive or dead,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
Shule, shule, shule agra!
Only death can ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!
THE SAILOR GIRL
When the Wild Geese were flying to Flanders away,
I clung to my Desmond beseeching him stay,
But the stern trumpet sounded the summons to sea,
And afar the ship bore him, mabouchal machree.
I clung to my Desmond beseeching him stay,
But the stern trumpet sounded the summons to sea,
And afar the ship bore him, mabouchal machree.
39
And first he sent letters, and then he sent none,
And three times into prison I dreamt he was thrown;
So I shore my long tresses, and stain'd my face brown,
And went for a sailor from Limerick town.
And three times into prison I dreamt he was thrown;
So I shore my long tresses, and stain'd my face brown,
And went for a sailor from Limerick town.
Oh! the ropes cut my fingers, but steadfast I strove
Till I reached the Low Country in search of my love.
There I heard how at Namur his heart was so high
That they carried him captive, refusing to fly.
Till I reached the Low Country in search of my love.
There I heard how at Namur his heart was so high
That they carried him captive, refusing to fly.
With that to King William himself I was brought,
And his mercy for Desmond with tears I besought.
He considered my story, then smiling, says he,
“The young Irish rebel for your sake is free.”
And his mercy for Desmond with tears I besought.
He considered my story, then smiling, says he,
“The young Irish rebel for your sake is free.”
“Bring the varlet before us. Now, Desmond O'Hea,
Myself has decided your sentence to-day—
You must marry your sailor with bell, book, and ring,
And here is her dowry,” cried William the King!
Myself has decided your sentence to-day—
You must marry your sailor with bell, book, and ring,
And here is her dowry,” cried William the King!
SHE IS MY LOVE
She is my love beyond all thought,
Though she has wrought my deepest dole;
Yet dearer for the cruel pain
Than one who fain would make me whole.
Though she has wrought my deepest dole;
Yet dearer for the cruel pain
Than one who fain would make me whole.
She is my glittering gem of gems,
Who yet contemns my fortune bright;
Whose cheek but glows with redder scorn
Since mine has worn a stricken white.
Who yet contemns my fortune bright;
Whose cheek but glows with redder scorn
Since mine has worn a stricken white.
40
She is my sun and moon and star,
Who yet so far and cold doth keep,
She would not even o'er my bier
One tender tear of pity weep.
Who yet so far and cold doth keep,
She would not even o'er my bier
One tender tear of pity weep.
Into my heart unsought she came,
A wasting flame, a haunting care;
Into my heart of hearts, ah! why?
And left a sigh for ever there.
A wasting flame, a haunting care;
Into my heart of hearts, ah! why?
And left a sigh for ever there.
THE COLLEEN DONN
My Colleen Donn of the golden glances,
The storm black tresses and the shape of snow,
'Tis little surely your light heart fancies
How for your sake a grieving man I go.
The storm black tresses and the shape of snow,
'Tis little surely your light heart fancies
How for your sake a grieving man I go.
The lone night long under woe I'm waking,
While you are taking the joys of sleep;
The bright day through, while you bless another,
Your troth plight breaking, like a ghost I creep.
While you are taking the joys of sleep;
The bright day through, while you bless another,
Your troth plight breaking, like a ghost I creep.
My Colleen Donn of the dancing dimple,
The soft discourses and the love-lit eyes,
How true I thought you, how fresh and simple
In every wish, oh! how unworldly wise!
The soft discourses and the love-lit eyes,
How true I thought you, how fresh and simple
In every wish, oh! how unworldly wise!
My Colleen Donn, there was that about you,
None dared to doubt you—yet you're gone, you're gone!
My winter's warmth, and my summer's shadow,
I'm but lost without you, my own Colleen Donn.
None dared to doubt you—yet you're gone, you're gone!
My winter's warmth, and my summer's shadow,
I'm but lost without you, my own Colleen Donn.
41
THE MINSTREL LOVER
We met when roses wreathed the grey ramparts of O'Connor,
She a maid of Royal blood, her proud father's minstrel I;
Her eyes looked love in mine, but my lips were sealed by honour,
So I sailed from Connaught kind for Espan's alien sky;
But her last faithful glance cheered my gloom and charmed my slumbers,
And I toiled on in trust that her hand I yet might claim,
Till the harp her spirit swayed thrilled all Europe with its numbers,
And the chief of Erin's poets for her dear sake I became.
She a maid of Royal blood, her proud father's minstrel I;
Her eyes looked love in mine, but my lips were sealed by honour,
So I sailed from Connaught kind for Espan's alien sky;
But her last faithful glance cheered my gloom and charmed my slumbers,
And I toiled on in trust that her hand I yet might claim,
Till the harp her spirit swayed thrilled all Europe with its numbers,
And the chief of Erin's poets for her dear sake I became.
Her haughty father sped, again I sought her castle,
For the joyous Beltane feast as a roaming bard arrayed,
And when each minstrel else had made music for the wassail,
Before my lady bright I stood forth once more and played.
I told my tale of love, and when its transport ended,
Cast off my wanderer's weeds and my name of fame confessed;
In her rapture she arose—from her silver seat descended,
And owned me her heart's lord before each glittering guest.
For the joyous Beltane feast as a roaming bard arrayed,
And when each minstrel else had made music for the wassail,
Before my lady bright I stood forth once more and played.
I told my tale of love, and when its transport ended,
Cast off my wanderer's weeds and my name of fame confessed;
In her rapture she arose—from her silver seat descended,
And owned me her heart's lord before each glittering guest.
42
I SHALL NOT DIE FOR LOVE OF THEE
O, Woman, shapely as the swan,
Shall I turn wan for looks from thee?
Nay bend those blue love-darting eyes
On men unwise, they wound not me.
Red lips and ripe and rose soft cheek,
Shall limbs turn weak and colour flee,
And languorous grace and foam-white form,
Shall still blood storm because of ye?
Shall I turn wan for looks from thee?
Nay bend those blue love-darting eyes
On men unwise, they wound not me.
Red lips and ripe and rose soft cheek,
Shall limbs turn weak and colour flee,
And languorous grace and foam-white form,
Shall still blood storm because of ye?
Thy slender waist, thy cool of gold
In ringlets rolled around thy knee,
Thy scented sighs and looks of flame
They shall not tame my spirit free.
For, Woman, shapely as the swan,
A wary man hath nurtured me;
White neck and arm, bright lip and eye,
I shall not die for love of ye!
In ringlets rolled around thy knee,
Thy scented sighs and looks of flame
They shall not tame my spirit free.
For, Woman, shapely as the swan,
A wary man hath nurtured me;
White neck and arm, bright lip and eye,
I shall not die for love of ye!
A LAMENT
Dark, dark drives the tempest o'er Erin to-day,
And rends the green leaf from the writhing oak spray;
Thus struggling forlorn under Heaven's blackest cope,
Heart tortured we mourn the crushed crown of our hope.
And rends the green leaf from the writhing oak spray;
Thus struggling forlorn under Heaven's blackest cope,
Heart tortured we mourn the crushed crown of our hope.
Through foemen unnumber'd, in proud undismay,
To Freedom's pure heights he still won us the way;
Till planting elate on the proud peak our flag,
The fierce bolt of fate dashed him dead from the crag.
To Freedom's pure heights he still won us the way;
Till planting elate on the proud peak our flag,
The fierce bolt of fate dashed him dead from the crag.
43
Moan, hollow wind, moan! weep, weep, heavy cloud,
Sob for sob, tear for tear, for the chief in his shroud!
Ochone! and ochoro! our Heart, Hand and Head,
To our black, bitter sorrow on the bier you lie dead!
Sob for sob, tear for tear, for the chief in his shroud!
Ochone! and ochoro! our Heart, Hand and Head,
To our black, bitter sorrow on the bier you lie dead!
LOVELY ANNE
Lovely Anne, my lovely Anne!
Oh, hearken to my bitter cry!
Alone, on rugged Slievenaman,
For your fond sake I lie;
For you I've fled my friends, fled my clan,
Fair Saxon, have you turned untrue?
And has my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne,
But brought me here to rue?
Oh, hearken to my bitter cry!
Alone, on rugged Slievenaman,
For your fond sake I lie;
For you I've fled my friends, fled my clan,
Fair Saxon, have you turned untrue?
And has my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne,
But brought me here to rue?
Lovely Anne, oh, lovely Anne,
Since darkly here I laid me down,
How oft the wind-swept cannavaun
Has seem'd your flutt'ring gown;
And once a maid, with bright milking can,
Brush'd hitherward across the dew,
“'Tis she, my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne!”
She turned and frown'd me through.
Since darkly here I laid me down,
How oft the wind-swept cannavaun
Has seem'd your flutt'ring gown;
And once a maid, with bright milking can,
Brush'd hitherward across the dew,
“'Tis she, my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne!”
She turned and frown'd me through.
Lovely Anne, oh, lovely Anne!
Cold morn is mounting o'er the height,
And your forsaken Irishman
Afar must take his flight.
Heaven's curse upon the black, heartless ban,
That sunders thus the fond and true.
Adieu, my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne,
For evermore adieu!
Cold morn is mounting o'er the height,
And your forsaken Irishman
Afar must take his flight.
Heaven's curse upon the black, heartless ban,
That sunders thus the fond and true.
Adieu, my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne,
For evermore adieu!
44
SONGS OF THE GAEL
KITTY BAWN
Before the first ray of blushing day
Who should come by but Kitty Bawn,
With her cheek like the rose on a bed of snows,
And her bosom beneath like the sailing swan.
I looked and looked till my heart was gone.
Who should come by but Kitty Bawn,
With her cheek like the rose on a bed of snows,
And her bosom beneath like the sailing swan.
I looked and looked till my heart was gone.
With the foot of the fawn she crossed the lawn,
Half confiding and half in fear;
And her eyes of blue they thrilled me through
One blessed minute; then like the deer
Away she started and left me here.
Half confiding and half in fear;
And her eyes of blue they thrilled me through
One blessed minute; then like the deer
Away she started and left me here.
Oh, Sun, you are late at your golden gate,
For you've nothing to show beneath the sky
To compare to the lass who crossed the grass
Of the shamrock field ere the dew was dry,
And the glance she gave me as she went by.
For you've nothing to show beneath the sky
To compare to the lass who crossed the grass
Of the shamrock field ere the dew was dry,
And the glance she gave me as she went by.
BESIDE THE RIVER LOUNE
Nevermore, where yon ash is weeping,
Old and hoar, over Loune,
Nevermore shall my heart go leaping
At the glance of her gown.
Nevermore, when snowflakes falling
Blanch the wrinkled, writhing boughs,
Shall I hear my love's voice kindly calling
Her “Come home!” to the cows.
Old and hoar, over Loune,
Nevermore shall my heart go leaping
At the glance of her gown.
45
Blanch the wrinkled, writhing boughs,
Shall I hear my love's voice kindly calling
Her “Come home!” to the cows.
O'er our tryst by the lone Loune water,
At the Ford of the Sloes,
Crept the mist, while the wild brown water
In anger arose.
Step by step each ford stone seeking,
She shimmered at my side,
But a sudden spate it swept her shrieking
Down the red, raging tide.
At the Ford of the Sloes,
Crept the mist, while the wild brown water
In anger arose.
Step by step each ford stone seeking,
She shimmered at my side,
But a sudden spate it swept her shrieking
Down the red, raging tide.
All night with the flood fiend wrestling
I sought her forlorn,
Till amid the blue forget-me-not nestling
I found her at morn.
Like a maiden of marble moulded,
All at peace my love lay there,
With her hands upon her bosom folded,
Meekly folded in prayer.
I sought her forlorn,
Till amid the blue forget-me-not nestling
I found her at morn.
Like a maiden of marble moulded,
All at peace my love lay there,
With her hands upon her bosom folded,
Meekly folded in prayer.
LAST NIGHT I DREAMT OF MY OWN TRUE LOVE
Last night I dreamt of my own true love!
Methought, methought beneath the stars
There fluttered, fluttered at my casement bars
A wildly wailing turtle dove.
I caught him in, and lo! I found
A letter to his bosom bound.
Methought, methought beneath the stars
There fluttered, fluttered at my casement bars
A wildly wailing turtle dove.
I caught him in, and lo! I found
A letter to his bosom bound.
46
But when the ribbon I untwined
That wreathed his wing of restless snow,
By his dark welling life-blood's flow
Alas! 'twas all incarnadined,
Deep crimson as the letter's seal
From out a wound no art could heal.
That wreathed his wing of restless snow,
By his dark welling life-blood's flow
Alas! 'twas all incarnadined,
Deep crimson as the letter's seal
From out a wound no art could heal.
I made my sobbing bird a nest
Within my softly shelt'ring arms;
His panting pain, his wild alarms
I lulled at last to languid rest;
When, oh! with my own true love's eyes
He wakes and looks me through and dies.
Within my softly shelt'ring arms;
His panting pain, his wild alarms
I lulled at last to languid rest;
When, oh! with my own true love's eyes
He wakes and looks me through and dies.
O, BRANCH OF FRAGRANT BLOSSOM
O, branch of fragrant blossom,
How the heart in my bosom
Lay heaving before you with hopeless sigh;
Till your voice grew low and tender,
And a soft, love-lit splendour
Shone out to save me from your dark, dreamy eye.
How the heart in my bosom
Lay heaving before you with hopeless sigh;
Till your voice grew low and tender,
And a soft, love-lit splendour
Shone out to save me from your dark, dreamy eye.
O, branch of rosy blossom,
Radiant bride of my bosom,
My heart heaves no longer with hopeless sigh;
For you're the blessed shadow
Upon my burning meadow,
My sunshine in winter, and my love till I die.
Radiant bride of my bosom,
My heart heaves no longer with hopeless sigh;
For you're the blessed shadow
Upon my burning meadow,
My sunshine in winter, and my love till I die.
47
ALONE, ALL ALONE
When westward I'm called,
'Tis not east I'd be going.
Should I sup the salt wave
With the pure spring to hand,
Or prefer the base weed
To the richest rose blowing,
Or not follow my own love
The first through the land?
'Tis not east I'd be going.
Should I sup the salt wave
With the pure spring to hand,
Or prefer the base weed
To the richest rose blowing,
Or not follow my own love
The first through the land?
Oh, my heart is a fountain
Of sorrow unspoken,
A virgin nut-cluster
Untimely down torn!
And, oh, but my heart
Flutters bleeding and broken,
Like a bird beating out
Its wild life on a thorn.
Of sorrow unspoken,
A virgin nut-cluster
Untimely down torn!
And, oh, but my heart
Flutters bleeding and broken,
Like a bird beating out
Its wild life on a thorn.
His cheek is the hue
Of the blackberry blossom,
And blackberry blue
His dark tresses above;
And I'm cryin' without,
Who should lie in his bosom,
And I doubt and I doubt
If he's true to his love.
Of the blackberry blossom,
And blackberry blue
His dark tresses above;
And I'm cryin' without,
Who should lie in his bosom,
And I doubt and I doubt
If he's true to his love.
48
'Tis time I should part you,
Proud, hurrying City;
For your tongues they cut sharper
By far than your stone,
And your hearts than that same
Are more hardened to pity;
So my love I'll go seeking,
Alone, all alone!
Proud, hurrying City;
For your tongues they cut sharper
By far than your stone,
And your hearts than that same
Are more hardened to pity;
So my love I'll go seeking,
Alone, all alone!
SINCE WE'RE APART
Since we're apart, since we're apart,
The weariness and lonely smart
Are going greatly round my heart;
Upon my pillow, ere I sleep,
The full of my two shoes I weep,
And like a ghost all day I creep.
The weariness and lonely smart
Are going greatly round my heart;
Upon my pillow, ere I sleep,
The full of my two shoes I weep,
And like a ghost all day I creep.
'Tis what you said you'd never change
Or with another ever range,
Now ev'n the Church is cold and strange.
There side by side our seats we took,
There side by side we held one book;
But with another now you look.
Or with another ever range,
Now ev'n the Church is cold and strange.
There side by side our seats we took,
There side by side we held one book;
But with another now you look.
And when the service it was o'er,
We'd walk the meadow's flow'ry floor,
As we shall walk and walk no more.
For while beneath the starry glow,
Ye two sit laughing light and low,
A shade among the shades I go.
We'd walk the meadow's flow'ry floor,
As we shall walk and walk no more.
For while beneath the starry glow,
Ye two sit laughing light and low,
A shade among the shades I go.
49
O LOVE, 'TIS A CALM, STARRY NIGHT
O love, 'tis a calm, starry night;
No breath stirs the leaves below;
My steed is at the door
And my ship is by the shore,
Then come down to me, my darling, and away, away we'll go;
Then come down, and far, and far away we'll go.
No breath stirs the leaves below;
My steed is at the door
And my ship is by the shore,
Then come down to me, my darling, and away, away we'll go;
Then come down, and far, and far away we'll go.
Your guardian is sleeping above,
Base churl, with his taunt and blow!
The house is all at rest;
Only you that I love best
Like a busy mouse keep rustling to and fro,
To make ready still keep rustling to and fro.
Base churl, with his taunt and blow!
The house is all at rest;
Only you that I love best
Like a busy mouse keep rustling to and fro,
To make ready still keep rustling to and fro.
Now soft you come stealing down the stair!
My heart it is all in a glow;
O, stay your silent tears,
O, cease your maiden fears!
For the world's wealth I'd never from you go, or work you woe!
For the world's wealth how could I use you so.
My heart it is all in a glow;
O, stay your silent tears,
O, cease your maiden fears!
For the world's wealth I'd never from you go, or work you woe!
For the world's wealth how could I use you so.
50
OVER HERE
Oh, the praties they are small,
Over here, over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
Over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
And we dig them in the fall,
And we eat them coats and all,
Full of fear, full of fear.
Over here, over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
Over here!
Oh, the praties they are small,
And we dig them in the fall,
And we eat them coats and all,
Full of fear, full of fear.
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
Night and morn, night and morn,
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
Night and morn!
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
For they live and die in peace,
Till the hour of their decease,
Stuffing corn, stuffing corn.
Night and morn, night and morn,
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
Night and morn!
Oh, I wish we all were geese,
For they live and die in peace,
Till the hour of their decease,
Stuffing corn, stuffing corn.
Oh, we're down into the dust,
Over here, over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
Over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
But the God in Whom we trust,
Will yet give us crumb for crust,
Over here, over here!
Over here, over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
Over here!
Oh, we're down into the dust,
But the God in Whom we trust,
Will yet give us crumb for crust,
Over here, over here!
51
REMEMBER THE POOR
Oh! remember the poor when your fortune is sure,
And acre to acre you join;
Oh! remember the poor, though but slender your store,
And you ne'er can go gallant and fine.
Oh! remember the poor when they cry at your door
In the raging rain and blast;
Call them in, cheer them up with the bite and the sup,
Till they leave you their blessing at last.
And acre to acre you join;
Oh! remember the poor, though but slender your store,
And you ne'er can go gallant and fine.
Oh! remember the poor when they cry at your door
In the raging rain and blast;
Call them in, cheer them up with the bite and the sup,
Till they leave you their blessing at last.
The red fox has his lair, and each bird of the air
With the night settles warm in his nest,
But the King who laid down His celestial crown
For our sakes, He had nowhere to rest.
Oh! the poor were forgot till their pitiful lot
He bowed Himself to endure;
If your souls ye would make, for His Heavenly sake,
Oh! remember, remember the poor.
With the night settles warm in his nest,
But the King who laid down His celestial crown
For our sakes, He had nowhere to rest.
Oh! the poor were forgot till their pitiful lot
He bowed Himself to endure;
If your souls ye would make, for His Heavenly sake,
Oh! remember, remember the poor.
A LULLABY
I've found my bonny babe a nest
On Slumber Tree;
I'll rock you there to rosy rest,
Astore machree!
Oh, lulla lo! sing all the leaves
On Slumber Tree;
Till everything that hurts or grieves
Afar must flee.
On Slumber Tree;
I'll rock you there to rosy rest,
Astore machree!
Oh, lulla lo! sing all the leaves
On Slumber Tree;
Till everything that hurts or grieves
Afar must flee.
52
I'd put my pretty child to float
Away from me,
Within the new moon's silver boat
On Slumber Sea.
And when your starry sail is o'er,
From Slumber Sea,
My precious one, you'll step to shore
On Mother's knee.
Away from me,
Within the new moon's silver boat
On Slumber Sea.
And when your starry sail is o'er,
From Slumber Sea,
My precious one, you'll step to shore
On Mother's knee.
LIKE A STONE IN THE STREET
I'm left all alone like a stone at the side of the street,
With no kind “good day” on the way from the many I meet.
Still with looks cold and high they go by, not one brow now unbends,
None holds out his hand of the band of my fair-weather friends.
With no kind “good day” on the way from the many I meet.
Still with looks cold and high they go by, not one brow now unbends,
None holds out his hand of the band of my fair-weather friends.
They helped me to spend to its end all my fine shining store,
They drank to my health and my wealth until both were no more.
And now they are off with a scoff as they leave me behind,
“When you've ate the rich fruit, under foot with the bare, bitter rind.”
They drank to my health and my wealth until both were no more.
And now they are off with a scoff as they leave me behind,
“When you've ate the rich fruit, under foot with the bare, bitter rind.”
There's rest deep and still on yon hill by our old church's side,
Where I laid you long ago, to my woe, my young one year's bride.
Then, ochone! for relief from my grief into madness I flew.
Would to God ere that day in the clay I'd been covered with you!
Where I laid you long ago, to my woe, my young one year's bride.
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Would to God ere that day in the clay I'd been covered with you!
THE SONGS ERIN SINGS
I've heard the lark's cry thrill the sky o'er the meadows of Lusk,
And the first joyous gush of the thrush from Adare's April wood,
At thy lone music's spell, Philomel, magic stricken I've stood,
When in Espan afar star on star trembled out of the dusk.
And the first joyous gush of the thrush from Adare's April wood,
At thy lone music's spell, Philomel, magic stricken I've stood,
When in Espan afar star on star trembled out of the dusk.
While Dunkerron's blue dove murmured love, 'neath her nest I have sighed,
And by mazy Culdaff with a laugh mocked the cuckoo's refrain,
Derrycarn's dusky bird I have heard piping joy hard by pain,
And the swan's last lament sobbing sent over Moyle's mystic tide.
And by mazy Culdaff with a laugh mocked the cuckoo's refrain,
Derrycarn's dusky bird I have heard piping joy hard by pain,
And the swan's last lament sobbing sent over Moyle's mystic tide.
Yet as bright shadows pass from the glass of the darkening lake,
As the rose's rapt sigh must die, when the zephyr is stilled;
In oblivion grey sleeps each lay that those birds ever trilled,
But the songs Erin sings from her strings shall immortally wake.
As the rose's rapt sigh must die, when the zephyr is stilled;
In oblivion grey sleeps each lay that those birds ever trilled,
But the songs Erin sings from her strings shall immortally wake.
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THE ROVING PEDLAR
Do you mind the glad day
When we ranged, we two, o'er the green,
Amid the white May,
On the borders of lovely Lough Lene,
How out of the road came the roving old pedlar's long cry:
“Come buy my pretty wares, pretty wares, come buy, come buy!”
When we ranged, we two, o'er the green,
Amid the white May,
On the borders of lovely Lough Lene,
How out of the road came the roving old pedlar's long cry:
“Come buy my pretty wares, pretty wares, come buy, come buy!”
Not a cloud in the air,
All the woods one warble of song,
And we just a pair
Of wood-pigeons coo-cooing along;
When he, overhearing us, cunningly alters his cry:
“Wedding poplins, wedding veils, wedding rings! come buy, come buy!”
All the woods one warble of song,
And we just a pair
Of wood-pigeons coo-cooing along;
When he, overhearing us, cunningly alters his cry:
“Wedding poplins, wedding veils, wedding rings! come buy, come buy!”
One look in my eyes
And you took, mabouchaleen bawn,
My third finger's size
With a ribbon of rustling finane;
And when he'd the wedding ring sold, that old pedlar so sly,
“Just that poplin, just that veil, just those gloves,” he coaxed us to buy.
And you took, mabouchaleen bawn,
My third finger's size
With a ribbon of rustling finane;
And when he'd the wedding ring sold, that old pedlar so sly,
“Just that poplin, just that veil, just those gloves,” he coaxed us to buy.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |