Irish Songs and Poems By William Allingham: Second Edition: With Nine Airs for Voice and Pianoforte, and a Permanent Photograph of the Waterfall of Asaroe |
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 | Irish Songs and Poems |  |
When summer days are hot and blue,
How well for thee that mayst pursue
Far from the city's crowded street
The winding brook with wandering feet,
Conquer the mountain's airy crest,
Lose thee in woodland glade; or, best,
Breathe ocean-wind where curl'd waves roar,
Dart from the land in merry boat,
Dive into crystal green, swim, float,
Watch, on your cliff-sward stretch'd at rest,
Cloud-shadows cross the mighty floor,
Or pleated crimsons dye the west
As bit by bit the great Sun goes,
And soft the lazy ripple flows
Like sleep upon a wearied brain.
How well for thee that mayst pursue
Far from the city's crowded street
The winding brook with wandering feet,
Conquer the mountain's airy crest,
Lose thee in woodland glade; or, best,
Breathe ocean-wind where curl'd waves roar,
Dart from the land in merry boat,
Dive into crystal green, swim, float,
Watch, on your cliff-sward stretch'd at rest,
Cloud-shadows cross the mighty floor,
Or pleated crimsons dye the west
As bit by bit the great Sun goes,
And soft the lazy ripple flows
Like sleep upon a wearied brain.
Suppose it thus; suppose thee fain
Of song or story, some wild thing
Reported from the mystic main,—
Of Dalachmar now hear me sing,
Son of a long-forgotten king.
Of song or story, some wild thing
Reported from the mystic main,—
Of Dalachmar now hear me sing,
Son of a long-forgotten king.
6
King Erc the Fortunate was dead,
Diarmad ruled the clans instead,
Of West Ierné, strong in war,
Generous in peace; and Dalachmar,
His younger brother, dwelt with him.
Nor showed the sun and moonlight dim
In those long-faded seasons; bright
Was many a fresh new morrow's light
Along the mountains, evening gold
Fell on the wave, in times of old.
Diarmad ruled the clans instead,
Of West Ierné, strong in war,
Generous in peace; and Dalachmar,
His younger brother, dwelt with him.
Nor showed the sun and moonlight dim
In those long-faded seasons; bright
Was many a fresh new morrow's light
Along the mountains, evening gold
Fell on the wave, in times of old.
Their Fortress-Hill, a mighty mound,
With houses built of the strong oak-tree,
Entrench'd and palisaded round,
Ring within ring, o'erlook'd the sea
And rugged woods of wolf and bear;
A land of gloomy pathways where
Wild men crept also to and fro
To snatch a prey with club and bow;
Till sharply blew the signal-horn
The warriors of the Rath to warn,
And bid them smite the plunderers back
With blood upon their hasty track.
Or sometimes ocean-rovers fierce
Dared with their waspish navy pierce
A river-mouth or guardless bay
And sting the land with fire and sword;
Then sped the warriors forth, to slay
And chase and scatter, and drive aboard.
With houses built of the strong oak-tree,
Entrench'd and palisaded round,
Ring within ring, o'erlook'd the sea
And rugged woods of wolf and bear;
A land of gloomy pathways where
Wild men crept also to and fro
To snatch a prey with club and bow;
Till sharply blew the signal-horn
The warriors of the Rath to warn,
And bid them smite the plunderers back
With blood upon their hasty track.
Or sometimes ocean-rovers fierce
Dared with their waspish navy pierce
A river-mouth or guardless bay
And sting the land with fire and sword;
Then sped the warriors forth, to slay
And chase and scatter, and drive aboard.
But when the battle spoil was won,
Or when the hunting-day was done,
They heard, o'er fragrant cups of mead,
Their bards rehearse each daring deed
To ringing harps, or duly count
Those high ancestral steps that mount
To Balor and to Parthalon,
Or some thrice-famous story tell
Of war, or dark Druidic spell
(To-day no weaker), or how well
A Spirit loved a mortal Youth;
And all was heard and held for truth.
Or when the hunting-day was done,
They heard, o'er fragrant cups of mead,
Their bards rehearse each daring deed
To ringing harps, or duly count
Those high ancestral steps that mount
To Balor and to Parthalon,
7
Of war, or dark Druidic spell
(To-day no weaker), or how well
A Spirit loved a mortal Youth;
And all was heard and held for truth.
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