 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
235
ANNIE DE CLARE.
I
The rill at its fountain how calm is its flowing!The rill down the mountain comes rushing and glowing—
True love in my breast like its tide's ever growing,
Since I saw the bright eyes of my Annie de Clare.
II
Oh! blest be the hours that I last saw them beamingIn her home of the Crag, by the waterfall's streaming—
How I scaled the wild rocks with the red sunset gleaming,
Up into the arms of my Annie de Clare!
III
Oh! the glory that lay o'er the green earth and heaven!Oh! the sweet lapse of bliss to my fond bosom given,
As I sat by the stream on that calm summer even
In the love-lighted smiles of my Annie de Clare.
IV
Many and bright were the pleasures that crowned me,And dear the enchantments since boyhood that bound me,
But dearer than all were the fond arms round me,
And the red rosy lips of my Annie de Clare.
V
When the ardour of love lights the soul with its splendour,No cares may annoy her, no sorrows can rend her;
So my soul's wrapt in gladness with visions all tender
Of glory and love and my Annie de Clare.
236
VI
And glory may crown me, of bright meeds the giver,But love hath a guerdon more blissful for ever,
That bower where we sat by the wild Mumhan river
And the fond, twining arms of my Annie de Clare.
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |