Songs and Poems by George Sigerson :: :: University of Virginia Library

We sailed away, from Galway Bay,
A-top the swelling billows,
Our taper spars, slant to the stars,
Bent to and fro, like willows.
The sun's first beam came down the stream
And lit our tall sail brightly,
In breezy dance the waves advance
To the bark that's bounding lightly.

With diamond flash, in showers they splash
About the prow, swift-gliding,
The boat thrills through, with tremor new,
As in their conquest priding!

“Hy-Brasil—the land of the Blest.”

The leagues fly past, we come at last
Where looms a murky highland,
And tack to seek a sheltered creek
'Mid rocks of Arran Island.

I climbed the beach, in haste to reach
The ruins shrined in story,
The moated mound I sought and found
In grey traditions hoary.
There, standing high beneath the sky
I viewed the wastes of Arran—
'Tis holy ground, I thought, around,
But bare, and bleak, and barren.

A sound like cheers came on my ears,
Small, faint, and few, but merry—
From sea-gull's young have those out-sprung?
Or mock me notes of Faery?
With curious look I scanned each nook
From where the sea was dashing,
The secret found, beside the Mound
Where stood—a woman washing!

And graceful, lithe, and bright, and blithe,
No courtly dame more slender,
She seemed as fair, whilst working there
As they in all their splendour.

Could she, thought I, have raised that cry?
She glanced up, dark and merry,
Then down with pride, for at her side
Two babelings in her eyrie!

Two, dark and fair, with nut-brown hair,
Two, red-cheeked as the berry,
'Mid rocks all grey, they sat at play,
All three were very merry!—
My boat below filled sail to go,
I left the land—once barren,
Nor hope to find 'neath sun and wind
A fairer isle than Arran!