A New Song called The Sea, The Sea To which is added, The Last Shilling, Tho' you leave me now in sorrow, Irish Mary, The Marseillois Hymn [by Bryan Waller Procter] |
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IRISH MARY. |
 | A New Song called The Sea, The Sea |  |
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IRISH MARY.
Far away from Erin's strand,
And valleys wide, and sounding waters,
Still she is in every land,
One of Erin's fairest daughters;
Oh to meet her here is like,
A dream of home, and natal mountains!
On our hearts their voices strike—
We hear the gushing of their fountains!
Yes! our Irish Mary, dear!
Our own, our real Irish Mary!
A flower of home, fresh blooming come,
Art thou to us, our Irish Mary!
And valleys wide, and sounding waters,
Still she is in every land,
One of Erin's fairest daughters;
Oh to meet her here is like,
A dream of home, and natal mountains!
On our hearts their voices strike—
We hear the gushing of their fountains!
Yes! our Irish Mary, dear!
Our own, our real Irish Mary!
A flower of home, fresh blooming come,
Art thou to us, our Irish Mary!
Round about us here we see
Bright eyes, like her's, and sunny faces,
Charming all!—if all were free
Of foreign airs, of borrowed graces.
Mary's eye is flashing truth!
And Mary's spirit, Mary's nature,
‘Irish Lady,” fresh in youth,
‘Have beam'd o'er every look and feature,
Yes! our Irish Mary, dear!
When la tournure doth make us weary,
We have you, to turn unto,
For native grace, our Irish Mary!
Bright eyes, like her's, and sunny faces,
Charming all!—if all were free
Of foreign airs, of borrowed graces.
Mary's eye is flashing truth!
And Mary's spirit, Mary's nature,
‘Irish Lady,” fresh in youth,
‘Have beam'd o'er every look and feature,
Yes! our Irish Mary, dear!
When la tournure doth make us weary,
We have you, to turn unto,
For native grace, our Irish Mary!
Sighs of home—her Erin's songs—
O'er all their songs we love to listen,
Tears of home! her Erin's wrongs
Subdue our kindred eyes to glisten!
Oh! should woe to gloom consign
The clear fire-side of love and honour,
You will see a holier sign
Of Irish Mary bright upon her.
Yes! our Irish Mary dear!
Will light that home, tho' e'er so dreary,
Shining still o'er clouds of ill,
Sweet star of life, our Irish Mary.
O'er all their songs we love to listen,
Tears of home! her Erin's wrongs
Subdue our kindred eyes to glisten!
Oh! should woe to gloom consign
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You will see a holier sign
Of Irish Mary bright upon her.
Yes! our Irish Mary dear!
Will light that home, tho' e'er so dreary,
Shining still o'er clouds of ill,
Sweet star of life, our Irish Mary.
| A New Song called The Sea, The Sea | |