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Ballads of Irish chivalry

Joyce, Robert Dwyer (1836-1883)

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TO GRACIE
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BALLADS.
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SONGS.
 
MY BOAT.
 
WILL OF THE GAP.
 
MY HEART IS WILD.
 
THE FLOWER THAT NE'ER SHALL FADE.
 
THE STUDENT.
 
MY STEED WAS WEARY.
 
FAR AWAY.
 
THE MOUNTAIN ASH.
 
THE ENSIGN AND HIS BANNER.
 
I NEVER CAN FORGET.
 
THERE IS A STREAM.
 
DONAL O'KEEFFE'S LAMENT.
 
I THOUGHT SHE LOVED ME DEARLY.
 
MY TRUE LOVE BRIGHT.
 
THE RED LUSMORE.
 
THE SPRING OF THE YEAR.
 
THE OUTLAW OF KILMORE.
 
THE LOCKS OF AMBER.
 
ALLISDRUM'S MARCH AT THE BATTLE OF KNOCKINOSS.
 
THE LITTLE BIRD.
 
LAMENT OF GARODH EARLA.
 
MARY EARLEY.
 
ALLEY KELLY O!
 
MY FLOWER OF FLOWERS.
 
THIS MAID OF MINE.
 
THE YELLOW HAIR.
 
OH! FAIR SHINES THE SUN ON GLENARA.
 
MY ANNA'S EYES.
 
FAIR KATE OF GLENANNER.
 
MERRILY, MERRILY PLAYING.
 
THE SIEGE OF LIMERICK.
 
FAIR HELEN OF THE DELL.
 
WHATEVER WIND IS BLOWING.
 
MARYANNE.
 
I SIT ON THE HOLD OF MOYALLO.
 
MY MARY.
 
BRAVE DONALL.
 
I STILL AM A ROVER.
 
THERE IS A TREE IN DARRA'S WOOD.
 
I BUILT ME A BOWER.
 
THE CAILIN RUE.
 
THE GREEN RIBBON.
 
ANNIE DE CLARE.
 
THE MARCH OUT OF LIMERICK.
 
FAINGE AN LAE.
 
GRA GAL BAN.
 
DONALL NA GREINE.
 
THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY.
 
FANNY CLAIR.
 
WILLY BRAND.
 
THE LASSES OF IRELAND.
 
O'SULLIVAN'S FLIGHT.
 
SONG.
 
I LOVED A MAID.
 
JESSY BRIEN.
 
JOHNNY'S RETURN.
 
THE FORSAKEN.
 
MY TRUE LOVE.
 
FAIREST AND RAREST.
 
COME, ALL YOU MAIDS, WHERE'ER YOU BE.
 
MARY, THE PRIDE OF THE WEST.
 
MY LOVE IS ON THE RIVER.
 
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY.
 
THE WITHERED ROSE.
 
THE JOLLY COMPANIE.
 
MY IRISH GIRL.
 
I'M FOURTEEN YEARS OLD UPON SUNDAY.
 
THE SUMMER IS COME.
 
OVER THE MORNING DEW.
 
SWEET GLENGARIFF'S WATER.
 
AMONG THE FRAGRANT HAY.
 
THE SADDEST BREEZE.
 
MY LOVE IS AT MY SIDE.
 
FANNY.

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FAIR HELEN OF THE DELL.

[_]

Air—“The Dark Maid of the Dell”.

I

Though joy his flow'rs be twining,
And thou in beauty shining,
Yet oh! in joy's declining
I'd love thee still as well;
Wherever fortune lead thee,
Or wind or wave can speed thee,
This true heart still shall heed thee,
Fair Helen of the Dell.
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II

I've never yet beholden
A form so finely moulden,
Thy hair a sunset golden,
Thy voice the clear harp's swell;
Thine eyes have Heav'n's own brightness,
Thy neck the lily's whiteness,
Thy step the hill-stream's lightness,
Fair Helen of the Dell.

III

Few summers thou hast numbered;
Thy heart to this has slumbered;
Love leads it now uncumbered
In his bright bowers to dwell;
He casts his splendour o'er thee,
He walks in light before thee,
That I may wild adore thee,
Fair Helen of the Dell.
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