 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
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.”
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |