The poetical works of Sir Alexander Boswell ... Now first collected and edited, with memoir, by Robert Howie Smith |
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TO AN IRISH AIR—SONG. |
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 | The poetical works of Sir Alexander Boswell |  |
17
TO AN IRISH AIR—SONG.
By the late James Boswell, Esq.
Larghan clanbrassil, how sweet is thy sound!
To my tender remembrance as Love's sacred ground;
For there Marg'ret Caroline first charm'd my sight,
And fill'd my young heart with a flutt'ring delight.
To my tender remembrance as Love's sacred ground;
For there Marg'ret Caroline first charm'd my sight,
And fill'd my young heart with a flutt'ring delight.
When I thought her my own, ah! too short seem'd the day
For a jaunt to Downpatrick, or a trip on the sea;
To express what I felt then all language were vain,
'Twas in truth what the poets have studied to feign.
For a jaunt to Downpatrick, or a trip on the sea;
To express what I felt then all language were vain,
'Twas in truth what the poets have studied to feign.
But too late I found even she could deceive,
And nothing was left but to weep, sigh, and rave;
Distracted I fled from my dear native shore,
Resolved to see Larghan Clanbrassil no more.
And nothing was left but to weep, sigh, and rave;
Distracted I fled from my dear native shore,
Resolved to see Larghan Clanbrassil no more.
Yet still in some moments enchanted I find
A ray of her fondness beam soft on my mind;
While thus in bless'd fancy my angel I see,
All the world is a Larghan Clanbrassil to me.
A ray of her fondness beam soft on my mind;
While thus in bless'd fancy my angel I see,
All the world is a Larghan Clanbrassil to me.
| The poetical works of Sir Alexander Boswell | |