 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
I STILL AM A ROVER.
I
I still am a rover our green island over,A passion-fraught lover of beauty and bloom,
On wild mountains pondering, thro' sweet valleys wandering,
Where soft winds are squandering the blossom's perfume;
228
From all their fair faces my heart still doth stray,
Where clear waves are flinging, and flowerets are springing,
And blithe birds are singing in sunny Gleneigh!
II
There green woods wave slowly to winds breathing lowly,And ruin walls holy stand gray o'er the scene;
There clear fountains rally their strength in each valley,
Where waves the wild sally and birch leaves are green;
There rocks famed in story stand silent and hoary,
And fields in the glory of summer are gay,
And mead blossoms muster their bells of bright lustre,
And rich berries cluster in sunny Gleneigh!
III
Yet 'tis not the tender sweet beauty and splendourThat dwells there can render such joy to my breast;
'Tis love has arrayed it, and decked and displayed it,
As spring never made it, or mild summer dress'd:
There Gracie is dwelling in beauty excelling,
Her bright looks still telling love ne'er can decay,
While clear waves are flinging, and flowerets are springing,
And blithe birds are singing in sunny Gleneigh.
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |