Bog-land Studies By J. Barlow: 3rd ed |
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| XI. | XI |
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| XIV. |
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 | Bog-land Studies |  |
XI
There were showers about on the bog, an' the
blast risin' up wid a keen
Dhruv the wet in me eyes as I come towards the hole till the slope falls between:
And I tuk a look round, sharp an' quick, as ye'd
touch a red coal wid your hand—
Ne'er a sign of him—nowan but Nell—sure a light seemed to slip o'er the land.
Dhruv the wet in me eyes as I come towards the hole till the slope falls between:
124
Ne'er a sign of him—nowan but Nell—sure a light seemed to slip o'er the land.
But it's kneelin' she was on the edge, stoopin'
low o'er the blackness widin,
And I called to her: ‘Mind yourself, Nell!’ for to see her ran could thro' me skin.
But wid that she lept up to her feet, an' just ready she stood for a spring,
Never liftin' her eyes from the wather. So sthraight as a stone from a sling
I was down the hill-side, an' I dhragged her away, tho' it's past what ye'd think
How she sthrove in me arms; I was hard set to hold her off safe from the brink.
Thin she tuk to stan' still of a suddint, an' sez to me soft like an' low:
‘For the love o' the Mother o' Mercy, don't be keepin' me, lad, let me go.’
An' sez I to her: ‘Nelly, me darlint, I've made up
me mind in the nights
That I'd give ye to Felix Magrath; for, sure, how should I grudge you by rights,
If it's him your heart's set on? I'll keep meself quite; there's no more to be said.
But yon ugly black hole—och, it's often I've promised your mother that's dead
I'd ne'er let that git hold o' ye. Time and agin I'll ha' hauled ye along
Up this bank, an' ye fightin' as fierce as a kitten, an' nearly as sthrong,
And abusin' me all ye could think, in the rage o' ye. Now, be me sowl,
I'd not keep ye from wan that was pleasant an' kind, but I'll chate the black hole.’
So sez I; but sez she wid a cry that was like a wild bird's on the air:
‘'Tis to Felix I'm goin', to Felix, that's lyin' an' dhrownin' down there.’
And I called to her: ‘Mind yourself, Nell!’ for to see her ran could thro' me skin.
But wid that she lept up to her feet, an' just ready she stood for a spring,
Never liftin' her eyes from the wather. So sthraight as a stone from a sling
I was down the hill-side, an' I dhragged her away, tho' it's past what ye'd think
How she sthrove in me arms; I was hard set to hold her off safe from the brink.
Thin she tuk to stan' still of a suddint, an' sez to me soft like an' low:
‘For the love o' the Mother o' Mercy, don't be keepin' me, lad, let me go.’
125
That I'd give ye to Felix Magrath; for, sure, how should I grudge you by rights,
If it's him your heart's set on? I'll keep meself quite; there's no more to be said.
But yon ugly black hole—och, it's often I've promised your mother that's dead
I'd ne'er let that git hold o' ye. Time and agin I'll ha' hauled ye along
Up this bank, an' ye fightin' as fierce as a kitten, an' nearly as sthrong,
And abusin' me all ye could think, in the rage o' ye. Now, be me sowl,
I'd not keep ye from wan that was pleasant an' kind, but I'll chate the black hole.’
So sez I; but sez she wid a cry that was like a wild bird's on the air:
‘'Tis to Felix I'm goin', to Felix, that's lyin' an' dhrownin' down there.’
| Bog-land Studies | |