Ballads of Irish chivalry :: :: University of Virginia Library

With many a youth and maiden by pathways green and fair,
To hear the Mass devoutly and say the Sunday prayer;
And the meadows shone around them while the skylarks gay were singing,
And the stream sang songs amid the flowers and the Sunday bell was ringing.

II

There is a well sunk deeply by old Ard-Patrick's wall;
Within it gaze the peasants to see what may befall:
Who see their shadows down below, they will have merry cheer;
Who see not any shadows shall die within the year.
There staid the youths and maidens where the soft green grass was springing,
While the stream sang songs amid the flowers and the Sunday bell was ringing.

III

Out spoke bold Richard Hanlon: “We'll see what may befall,”—
'Twas to young Bride Mac Donnell the flower among them all,—
“Come see if ours be sorrow or merry wedlock's band!”
Then took the smiling maiden all by the lily hand;
And there they knelt together, their bright looks downward flinging,
While the stream sang songs amid the flowers and the Sunday bell was ringing.

IV

They looked into the water, but no shadows saw below:
The dark dark sign of evil! Ah, could it e'er be so?

Full lightly laughed young Rickard although his heart was chill,
And with fair Bride Mac Donnell and all went down the hill,
To hear the Mass devoutly, with the soft airs round them winging,
While the stream sang songs amid the flowers and the Sunday bell was ringing.

V

Sweet months, despite the omen, in sunny bliss flew o'er,
And sometimes thinking on it but made them love the more;
But when across Ard-Patrick they sought the lowland plain,
Into the well's deep water they never looked again;
Far off with their companions they sat, fair garlands stringing,
While the stream sang songs amid the flowers and the Sunday bell was ringing.

VI

Dismay through all our hamlet when the storm and flood were o'er!
The ford's great rocks were loosened by the torrent of Easmore,
And clasping hands together—sad sad the tale to tell—
Were found young Bride and Rickard drowned near the Robber's Well!
O, false and cruel water, so merry downward flinging,
How canst thou sing amid the flowers while the death bell loud is ringing?

VII

From old Ard-Patrick's ruins loud sounds the piercing keen;
By the sad Well of the Omen a deep deep grave is seen,
Where side by side together they have laid the early dead,
And the Mass they've chanted o'er them, and the requiem prayer is said.
There was woe and bootless sorrow in many a bosom clinging,
But the stream sang songs amid the flowers, while the death bell loud was ringing!