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63
THE IRISH HARP.
The Irish harp has three strings.
Angus the Druid, lover of birds,
Crooned at its making strange runes and words.
Crooned at its making strange runes and words.
He made the frame of a Druid tree,
Laid it with silver and ivory.
Laid it with silver and ivory.
All the bells of the wood rang clear.
Angus paused at his task to hear.
Angus paused at his task to hear.
He heard light footfalls and fairy laughter
And the pacing steed of the queen thereafter.
And the pacing steed of the queen thereafter.
Its strings he made of silver and gold,
Like the hair of a woman, silken and cold:
Like the hair of a woman, silken and cold:
Shaped them after a man's heart-strings.
The harp was Druid: a thing of wings.
The harp was Druid: a thing of wings.
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He gave it gifts of laughter and weeping.
And the third gift was a gift of sleeping.
And the third gift was a gift of sleeping.
The first string sang in its flying
Of love and laughter and youth undying.
Of love and laughter and youth undying.
The second string, that failed in its flight,
Wept for love and the lost delight.
Wept for love and the lost delight.
Love and death and the tale is told:
But the third string has a voice of gold.
But the third string has a voice of gold.
After the laughter, after the fretting,
The third string has a song of forgetting.
The third string has a song of forgetting.
The tired head on the softest breast
And the mother singing a song of rest.
And the mother singing a song of rest.
Husheen lo! and the drowsing eyes.
The mother singing her lullabies.
The mother singing her lullabies.
Sweet was the first string, sweeter than honey.
Love is lovesome and youth is bonny.
Love is lovesome and youth is bonny.
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Sweet was the song of loving and grieving,
The string that broke its heart for the living.
The string that broke its heart for the living.
I would rather, O Angus, nor do thee wrong,
Hear the third with its slumber-song.
Hear the third with its slumber-song.
As drone of bees in the lily's blossom
The song of sleep on the mother's bosom.
The song of sleep on the mother's bosom.
Sweeter than songs of silver and gold
The song of sleep in her tender hold.
The song of sleep in her tender hold.
The Irish Harp has three strings.
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