 | Songs of Killarney |  |
157
AN IRISH GRACE.
For beauty's blaze
Let Pagans praise
The features of Aglaia,
Admire agape
The maiden shape
Consummate in Thalia,
Last hail in thee,
Euphrosyne,
Allied the sovran powers
Of form and face—
No heathen Grace
Can match this Grace of ours.
Let Pagans praise
The features of Aglaia,
Admire agape
The maiden shape
Consummate in Thalia,
Last hail in thee,
Euphrosyne,
Allied the sovran powers
Of form and face—
No heathen Grace
Can match this Grace of ours.
158
Blue are her eyes, as though the skies
Were ever blue above them,
And dark their full-fringed canopies,
As if the night fays wove them.
Were ever blue above them,
And dark their full-fringed canopies,
As if the night fays wove them.
Two roses kiss to mould her mouth,
Her ear's a lily blossom,
Her blush a sunset in the south,
And drifted snow her bosom.
Her ear's a lily blossom,
Her blush a sunset in the south,
And drifted snow her bosom.
Her voice is gay, but soft and low,
The sweetest of all trebles,
A silver brook that, in its flow,
Chimes over pearly pebbles.
The sweetest of all trebles,
A silver brook that, in its flow,
Chimes over pearly pebbles.
A happy heart, a temper bright,
Her radiant smile expresses;
And, like a wealth of golden light,
Rain down her sunny tresses.
Her radiant smile expresses;
And, like a wealth of golden light,
Rain down her sunny tresses.
159
Earth's desert clime,
Whose sands are Time,
Will prove a glad oasis,
If 'tis my fate,
My friends, to mate
With such a girl as Grace is.
Whose sands are Time,
Will prove a glad oasis,
If 'tis my fate,
My friends, to mate
With such a girl as Grace is.
| Songs of Killarney | |