VIII.
THE DARK-HAIRED MAID.
[_]
Gaelic Air—“Mo Nighean dhu.”
O sweet is she who thinks on me,
Behind yon dusky mountain;
In greenwood bower, at gloaming hour,
We'll meet by Morag's Fountain.
My hounds are on the hills of deer—
My heart is in the valley,
Where dark-hair'd Mary roams to hear
The woodlarks singing gaily.
O sweet is she, &c.
My hawks around the forest fly,
And wonder that I tarry,
While lone on thymy banks I lie
And dream of dark-haired Mary!
O sweet is she, &c.
Her step so light—her eye so bright—
Her smile so sweet and tender—
Her voice like music heard by night
As o'er the wilds I wander!
O sweet is she, &c.
Her neck which silken ringlets shroud—
Her bosom's soft commotion—
Like sea-mew hovering in the cloud,
Or heaving on the ocean!
O sweet is she, &c.
Her heart as gay as fawn at play,
Among the braes of braiken—
Yet mildly dear as melting tear
That minstrel tales awaken!
O sweet is she, &c.
And she is mine—the dark-haired Maid!
My bright, my beauteous Mary!—
The flower of Ardyn's lowly glade,
Shall bloom in high Glengary!
O sweet is she, &c.
