 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
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ROSEEN DHU
I. THE SHADOW OF A DREAM
O! sorrowful dream of the past
That dissolved in the morn's magic ray,
Why again is thy grey shadow cast
Like a false, fairy mist o'er my way?
That dissolved in the morn's magic ray,
Why again is thy grey shadow cast
Like a false, fairy mist o'er my way?
Yet the war-ships ride on through the bay
With the King's flag aflame from each mast.
Oh! Liberty, when shall thy day
Light the pale brows of Erin at last?
With the King's flag aflame from each mast.
Oh! Liberty, when shall thy day
Light the pale brows of Erin at last?
II. MY ROSE OF HOPE.
For Erin's sake I've faced the field of slaughter,
I've shared her smiles and mixed with hers my tears,
And, oh! her rarest, fairest, fondest daughter
Is now my rose of hope, my rue of fears.
I've shared her smiles and mixed with hers my tears,
And, oh! her rarest, fairest, fondest daughter
Is now my rose of hope, my rue of fears.
Yet, when we parted in the forest shadow,
Oh! there was that within her wondrous eyes
That sent me singing down the primrose meadow,
As if I'd found the path to Paradise!
Oh! there was that within her wondrous eyes
That sent me singing down the primrose meadow,
As if I'd found the path to Paradise!
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III. HER ANSWER
The earth is as green as fairy rings,
The air one flutter and flash of wings,
The heath and clover a-buzz with bees
And white, white over the hawthorn trees;
The air one flutter and flash of wings,
The heath and clover a-buzz with bees
And white, white over the hawthorn trees;
While up, high up, on his sunbeam stair,
The lark goes dancing my joy to share;
For, oh! by his song he surely knows
The answer I've won from my little dark Rose!
The lark goes dancing my joy to share;
For, oh! by his song he surely knows
The answer I've won from my little dark Rose!
IV. THE CLARION'S CALL
The clarion's crying! the drum's replying;
From cliff to cave the beacons wave
Their fiery fingers, now he who lingers
Is but a slave—a crouching slave!
From cliff to cave the beacons wave
Their fiery fingers, now he who lingers
Is but a slave—a crouching slave!
Adieu! adieu! my Roseen Dhu,
Adieu! adieu! adieu! adieu!
“O draw your rein,” she cried again
“O! let me bide with you!
Let me ride with you!”
Adieu! adieu! adieu! adieu!
“O draw your rein,” she cried again
“O! let me bide with you!
Let me ride with you!”
So together, by hills of heather
And moorland brown, we thundered down,
With glancing steel and dancing feather,
To Limerick town, to Limerick town.
And moorland brown, we thundered down,
With glancing steel and dancing feather,
To Limerick town, to Limerick town.
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Now o'er the Shannon,
With roaring cannon
And roll of drums, our foeman comes;
His carbines rattle!
O, God of battle,
Our cause defend unto the end!
With roaring cannon
And roll of drums, our foeman comes;
His carbines rattle!
O, God of battle,
Our cause defend unto the end!
V. SHE STOOD AT MY SIDE
She stood at my side, my bride, my own Roseen Dhu,
Though with death laden bullet on bullet the air was athrill,
In her fair bloom to dare doom,
While the foe ever fiercer grew,
To the storm flying swarm upon swarm;
Yet we beat them backward still.
Though with death laden bullet on bullet the air was athrill,
In her fair bloom to dare doom,
While the foe ever fiercer grew,
To the storm flying swarm upon swarm;
Yet we beat them backward still.
But with fell fireballs still battering our walls till they brake,
Again to the onset flashed the fierce Saxon stream.
Then with white hand a bright brand
Waving, “Onward!” she cried, “for Erin's sake!”
Down we leapt, on we sternly swept,
Till we clashed in the shock supreme.
Again to the onset flashed the fierce Saxon stream.
Then with white hand a bright brand
Waving, “Onward!” she cried, “for Erin's sake!”
Down we leapt, on we sternly swept,
Till we clashed in the shock supreme.
But as their spear hedge, like sedge, mowing down amain,
Out, out of the city we hurled our headlong foes,
Through the dread shout and the red rout,
Where she cheered our charge to the plain,
Shrieked a shell! dead my darling fell!
Oh! my grief! Oh! my woe of woes!
Out, out of the city we hurled our headlong foes,
Through the dread shout and the red rout,
Where she cheered our charge to the plain,
Shrieked a shell! dead my darling fell!
Oh! my grief! Oh! my woe of woes!
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Oh! sorrowful shades of the Past,
Caught for one magic moment away,
Again you are gathering fast,
Like false, fairy mists o'er our way!
Caught for one magic moment away,
Again you are gathering fast,
Like false, fairy mists o'er our way!
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |