 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
THE LASSES OF IRELAND.
I
Here's to our dear lasses, wheresoe'er their home,'Mid the ancient cities, or where wild streams foam;
Ne'er were hearts more constant, ne'er were eyes so bright,
So we'll pledge them fondly on this festive night.
Then to our dear lasses,
With their smiles divine,
Drink, in sparkling glasses
Of the rose-red wine!
II
All the lovely maids that charmed our sires of yore,Live and shine immortal in wild bardic lore;
Still the same sweet faces, still the forms so fair,
Bloom from Antrim's Pillars to the bright Kenmare.
Then to those dear lasses,
With their smiles divine,
Drink, in sparkling glasses
Of the rose-red wine!
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III
Once I was a rover through broad England's plains;Through and through I've wandered Scotland's wild domains:
There I found fair maidens in the light of youth,
But no Irish fondness and no Irish truth.
So to our own lasses,
With their smiles divine,
Drink, in sparkling glasses
Of the rose-red wine!
IV
Denmark's dames are lovely, with their locks of gold;Spanish forms are stately; France hath charms untold;
Yet that sweet, bright beauty filling glance and smile
Dwells but with the maidens of our own green isle.
So to our own lasses,
With their smiles divine,
Drink, in sparkling glasses,
Of the rose-red wine!
V
May they live for ever as in th'olden time,When brave warriors wooed them, and sweet bards sublime;
May their glorious faces shine for aye the same,
With the light of beauty and love's radiant flame!
And to our own lasses,
With their smiles divine,
Drink, in sparkling glasses
Of the rose-red wine!
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |