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IrishMist 8 SunshineA ‘BOOK OF SBALLADS
By
Sliaw—na—mon !
With an in troduc tion byWilliam O
'
Brien , M. P.
‘BOSTON
‘Richard G. B adger 8 Company
(Incorporated!cToronto : W. E.
‘Blake
1901
MAR2 3 1970
Copyright 1900 by“Richard G. Badger 63 Company
(Incorporated!
‘
Reser’
bea’
Dedication
‘To my Brother
The ‘Refu. WILLIAM ‘DOLLARD
Church ofthe Holy Rosary
St. Stephen , N. B.
a locoer ofIreland and her literature, cwhose
teach ings and encouragement hacve
been my greatest aid, this book ofIrish caerse
is affectionately dedicated.
The Author
CONTENTS.
Preface by William O’
Brien , M. P., 9
Rhyme ofth e Still Hun ters, 15Ballad oft h e Coista Gann Kown , 2 7
Th e Cruise ofth e Blue Maureen , 31
Th e Bridge ofOrmonde, 39
Wh en th e Sh adow’s on th e Heath er,
Th e Hanging ofMyles Lehane, 44
Th e Fairy Stolen , 54
On Kenmare Head, 57
Cnoc -Maol-Dh oun , 60
Lamen t for Cill Ceann aigh , 63
Ballad ofth e Bansh ee, 66
Th e Red Walls ofL imerick , 69Lav -Laidhjr Abu , 72
Th e March ofth e Nort h Cork , 75
Th e Pik emen , 79
Song ofth e Lit t le V illages, 83
Th e Sweet River Su ir, 87
Irish Mist and Sunshine
PREFACE .
The Irish priest who is also a poet commandsa range of emotions whi ch are inaccessible andalmost inconceivable to the decadent versifiers who have made the phrase “The MinorPoets” a term of contem pt . There i s
,as in
the great days of poetry,something of the di
vine in hi s cal ling . He is privil eged,as i s no
other man,to enter the Holy of Hol ies of the
Irish soul,whi ch contains a virgin mine of
passion,pathos
,mirth and tragedy stil l await
ing the poet’s al chem i c touch . The surpri sing thing i s that so few Irish priests have yetturned to account for the enri chment of l iterature t h e wealth of hum an interest and feeling which l ies around the poet-priest in thewildest mountain parish . The brooks thatbabble around hi s dai ly path make music, andthere i s no cabin whose blue peat - smoke perfumes the moors around hi s chapel that couldnot yield up. its little lyri c or its tale of deepand haunting patho s . Two Irish priests areat thi s moment setting the example of whatmen who combine literary ardour with a pas
9
Irish Mist and Sunshine
sionate love of their people can do to give theworld some glimpse of the charms of the trueIrish temperament
,horizon
,and spirit-world .
Father P. A . Sheehan’s famous book,
“MyNew Curate” gives perhaps the boldest as wellas the truest pi cture ever painted of the Irishpriest and of his peop le
,in habit as they l ive .
Father Dollard,the author of this book of ly
rics treats Irish life and sentiment through t h emore glowing medium of verse
,and with the
intensified passion of an exile from his nativeland . The grass-grown Iri sh villages, whosevery names set his thoughts to musi c, appearto him through an enchanted atmosphere ofrecollections and regrets which gives a touchof consecration too often lost for those towhom the dull realities suggest no more thanthe yel low primrose did to Peter Bell .Here and there a verse may be as franklyunadorned as the peasant cabins themselvesin their homely cloaks of thatch, but everyl in e rings true to life and home and with thetone as h eartmoving as the Angelus whichholds Mil let’s - peasants in its spel l . Father
I O
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Dol lard moreover possesses the quality whichalone i s wanting among the perfections of the“New Curate” namely, a wholehearted sympathy with the national yearning of his people. The simple explanation to me at least ofthe dismal fate of al l the more or less Anglified “New Curate’s” proj ects for conqueringthe inveterate stagn ation of the vil lage life
around him is his failure to appreciate the aspirations whi ch are the people’s terrestrialbreath of life and the politi cal conditionswhich set young men either tippling with ! emDeady
,or learning the goose- step by moonl ight
under the command of the village tailor .
Father Dollard un derstands the tailor as wellas the tippler and sees perfectly how a healthynational enthusiasm could regulate the excesses of both and render Iri sh l ife as full ofmanly energy as it i s of n ational charm andpoeti c sen sibi lity. His lyrics have done verymuch indeed to discourage the unnatural He
gira from their n ative land which has temptedsuch myriads of the race from their wholesomemoun tain glen s in to the contamination of the
I I
Irish Mist and Sunshine
factories and the city slums in stranger lands .Nobody can well read hi s verses without feeling a breath of healthy air pass through thelungs
, an d a pleasant twitching at the heartsu ch as effects one who in dreams in a distant
cl ime,hears the sound of the chapel bell of his
young days floating on hi s ears . I rish priestswith the gifts of Father Sheehan and FatherDol lard in their several kinds can do more torevive the power of the poet in its ancientGreek sense than the most misty -minded of thedilettanti who arrogate to them selves the credit of what is cal led the “Gaeli c Revival .
They are indeed makers and teachers , and theirbooks leave us with cheerfuller bel ief in our
kind .
WILL IAM O ’BRIEN.
Mallow Cottage,VV estport , Ireland,
September 12,1900.
I 2
Irish Mist and Sunshine
RHYME OF THE STILL HUNTERS .
(A B allad of I cur-Connaugh t .
It was the Gauger Regan Buie
That pen sive came to bask,
One sunny day by Galway Bay,
And sat on an empty cask .
A Gauger old and stern was he,
Grim foe to fresh poteen ,Had sought the stil l o’er vale and b ill ;Ful l steady
' h is scent I ween .
He l it his pipe and he puffed a puff,He spat on the salty tide.He gazed on the blue-black Connaught Hill s
Then drooped his head and sighed
“Now,Regan Buie
,what sight dost see
On the lonesome Connaught Hill s ! ”
I see on Kylimore’s swelling slopes
The smoke of whiskey still s .
Is
Irish Mist and Sunshine
I feel the peat spring to my feet,
I scent the gorse clad waste,
I long again for crag and glen
Where mountain rivers raced .
Full dim my sight that once was light,My bones are stiffand sore
,
But the Connaught Hill s are cal ling now,
And it’s offI ’d be once more .
Oh, ofi again with the mountain men ;I knew them one and al l
! ack ! oyce that kept round Knockan iss,
And Teig at Balnagal ;
And Maelmorra Lynch, of Dalystown
But t h e lk eenest rogue drew breath
Was Dh iarmid Roe, of B allinasloe,Sly fox and game to death .
’Twas many a day we went hi s way ,Ful l sure to find his lairIn the B ough ta Hill s where smoked his
‘still s
On the bounds of County Clare .
16
Irish Mist and Sunshine
And many a night, a woeful sight,My men and I slunk home
,
While down from the shadowy moun tain clifisHis mocking voi ce would come
“Ho,Regan Buie you’re far to see
“My pearly mountain dew,
“I’ll send you a pint with never a stint,First run and tested true .
“But haste you now from the mountain tracks :“Go home to Galway Town
“And say when there that I beat you fair“For al l your name’s renown .
”
We wandered there when fields were fair
And the furze a flame of gold :
We sought again for the outlaw’s den
When winter winds b lew cold .
One day at last we fo l lowed fast ;The trail was straight and true ;Close was the chase till a Cliff’s dark face
Concealed him from our view .
1 7
Irish Mist and Sunshine
High and low for a h iding placeWe searched and searched again
,
Till we found a rift in the granite cliff,
The door of Dh iarmid’s den .
Oh chil l that cave as a churchyard vault ;Our hearts had need be bold ;B lack was its mouth
,but the womb within
Was blacker a hundredfold .
‘
High and steep were the stony wall sThe roof was lost to view ;With s huffle and j ar like thunder farOur footfal l s echoed through .
Spoke ! ack Ryan, of B ansha townWho feared not man or ghost ;
“I hear a tread on the road ahead ;And he followed the footsteps fast .
On through the midnight mirk he went ,With n ever a thought or care ;But I Theard the sound of a torrent’s rush ,And called to him,
“Beware !”
18
Irish Mist and Sunshine
! ou r grave is a thousand feet below“Your children wai t at home
,
And your wife shall cry as the days go by“For a hu sband ne’er to come .
“But think on the home in Galway town“And think of child and wife
“And make me a solemn promise here,“! our word shal l buy your life .
For n ever again the mountain men“Your stealthy steps must fear.
“The crag and glen for the mountain men ;“The slope for the mountain deer !
No more the stil l y ou ’l l hunt and spil l ,“Or range the gorse lands high ;
“Your word will hold,’gainst glory
gold ;Who breaks our law must die !”
Then stout his challenge I answered back,And spoke as man to man :
“My word won’t go to Dh iarmid Roe .
“So work the worst you can .
2 0
“I ’l l hunt ye again by crag and glen
(God care for child and wifeB u t
,ere I give ye the pledging word
“I ’l l part with them and l ife.”
Then Dh iarmid Roe spoke grave and slow ;“Your death-knell ’s sounding now ;
“No hurrying bal l your soul shal l call,
“Grim fear must make you bow .
Your grave i s deep and your grave i s high,“Its walls are soundless rock ;And never a soul shal l hear you call ,“Whilst I your sufl’
rings mock .
”
He spoke and the blessed light was gone,We groped in darkest gloom ;And we heard but the foaming flood below,
Sounding a knel l of doom .
Blind on our track we floundered backOur folly to bemoan ;We felt our way where the passage lay,And struck but the solid stone .
2 1
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Searched we there in our heart’s despair,
But ever the same we found .
Naught but the boiling depths belowAnd the iron rock around .
Oh,deep our grave by a hidden wave
,
And far from friends and homeWhere never a soul as long years rol lTo breathe a prayer would come .
Then cried Ned Power of Parson town ,
My friend in raid and fray :We’ve held the front in many a brunt“But thi s i s the end to -day.
Oh this i s the end and worse to fear“My curse on Dh iarm id Roe !
May all hi s flin ty heart ho lds dear“Rise up to work him woe .”
Heavy and slow the crawling hours ,And each one seemed a day ,In the deadly gloom of that living tombOur live strength ebbed‘ away .
2 2
And when sweet visions cro ssed the brainOf homes we’d see no more,We heard the drop of the reeking rockAnd the rumbling torrents roar .
At last a light flashed full and bright’Twas sweet as breaking day,
And full in the glow stood Dh iarm id RoeAnd mocked us where we lay :
Ho,Regan Buie
,are the hounds at bay,
“Brought up and trapped at last !“You’ve had your fun of many a run ,
“B ut your hunting days are past .
My curse on ye for stubborn fool s !“Speak now the word I said
“The riftl ess rock is al l around“And the rock roof overhead .
“I ’l l send ye back to Galway TownWhere wife and children wait .
“The time goes by and the end i s nigh“Speak now or speak too late .”
2 3
Up spoke Ned Power of Parson town
! our pardon,Regan Buie :
“The word your pride forever wou ld hide“I ’l l speak for you and me.
“Oh, n ever again by heath and glen
(God pay thee, Dh iarmid Roe !!“Were a whiskey stil l on every hill ,
“On the outlaw’s track we’l l go .
Were a whiskey still on every hill,“And a scent to make one reel ,Oh ! never again on the mountain men“Like blooded sleuths we’l l steal .
“Tho’ many an outlaw roam unhanged,“Of high and low degree,
“To Dh iarm id Roe the palm must go,“The Chief of rascals he.”
Then smiled that rascal , Dh iamid Roe,A wicked smile to see,And said : “This day is the day indeed
“And worth a world to me.”
2 4
The day that I baffled Regan Buie“And brought hi s boasting low
,
“A pint I’l l brew of the mountain dewTo treat ye ere ye go .
”
He bound our eyes and he led us on,And when we looked again,We saw the prize we had hunted long,The daring outlaw’s den .
Bu sy and n eat, in al l complete,V at and worm and stil l ,The mountaineer for many a year
Had worked them al l at wil l .
Then Dh iarm id Roe : “Now ere ye go“Ye’l l test my mountain dew .
”
And loud he laughed as the potent draughtOur shaking frames thril led through .
Oh,gay his laugh and merry his ch afi ,
As he showed the homeward way,And “Regan B uie in the years to be
“! ou’l l never rue this day.
2 5
Irish Mist and Sunshine
“Oh, come again to the mountain men,“A Government spy no more :Their friendship true I ’l l warrant you“And wel coming hearts galore .
He said and we looked our last on him,
Then turned our faces home ;But every year to my cottage hereA stealthy cask doth come .
And writ in the ancient Gael ic tongueThis legend you may see :Sweet mountain dew
,from Dh iarmid Roe,
To the Gauger,Regan Buie.
”
Oh,mellow and true that mountain dew .
Old heart and brain it thril l s .
I see as I saw in days of old ,the wind - swept Connaught Hil l s ;
I feel the peat beneath my feetI smell the heathery waste
I long again for the crag and glenwhere thundering torrents raced .
2 6
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Black Nial l Moran,
’ti s a blasphemy spoken,
Lone, lone the long road athwart the mountains brown
Oh,’ware you the graveyards whose portalsnow open
And the dread,headless horses of the Coista
Gann Kown .
”
A curse in the midnight,and a loud laugh of
scorn,
A murderer plunges in the black jaws of night,The high gal lows threatened and the pale
breaking morn,
Far out over ocean should see him in flight .
B u t fearful his j ourney, the dreary winds af
fright him .
Sobbing,hopeless sobbing amid the branchessere
From the wood-sheltered cairn,where hi s vi c
tim lies staring
The B anshee’s awesome u llagon comes to hisear .
28
Irish Mist and Sunsh ine
Ullagon' Ullagon ! the wailing winds repeat
Ullagon ! Ullagon ! the hol low hil l s replA rustle in the murky gloom
,—the winging of
a demon !
A voice in the vall ey—’ti s a lost spirit’s cry !
Black Niall Moran,where now your bold
vauntingYour brow’s damp with terror .—God spare
your guilty soul .
Hark ! o’er the din of your scared bosom’s
panting,
Hear the Headless Horses,and the Dead
Coach ’s roll !
Black Niall Moran if e’er you prayed toHeaven ,
Oh,pray unto the Saviour now for succor and
for grace .
They come,the demon horses—sound their
tramp like hol low thunder,The lightnings of their flashing hoofs illume
his ghastly face .
2 9
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Ah ! vainly doth he strive to pray—hi s pallidlips are frozen
,
God’s Mother,break the wicked spel l that
binds hi s b ody n ow .
His eyes must view the phantom coach, whosedoor i s swinging open
,
Within—a reeking body—’ti s his victim’s
clotted brow !
A shriek upon the midnight air,—a rumble in
the darkness,A gain the demon horses thro’ the mountains
speed away .
Stark dead upon the roadside,in his eyes a
nameless horror,
They found B lack Niall lying at the breakingof the day !
Where four roads meet they buried :him wheneven-shades w erefalling
But when night’s dusky curtains on t h
shrinking h i lls drop downThey hear t h e D ead Coach rushing by, and
" c ros s their foreheads saying ;His soul must ride t ill j udgment !with the
Coista Gann Kown .
”
3 0
THE CRUISE OF THE BLUE MAUREEN.
It was the brave ship Blue MaureenSwept out from ! ueenstown Bay,
Nor shortened sail to the rising galeThat whipped the seas to spray.
Her skipper was Rorke,of County Cork
,
Where daring men are bred ;Dark scowling now he stood at the prowAnd scanned t h e ski es ahead .
A smuggler free and fierce was he
A s e’er foiled revenue brand ;No storm could daunt him on the seaAnd he feared no l aw on land .
He wore away to the wild sou ’-west,He flew as the swallow flies,Past Seven Heads
,and the Galleys’ crest
To where the Three Stags rise .
3 1
Irish Mist and Sunshine
He en tered a lonely cove at lastAnd a Spanish ship lay there ;The Blue Maureen they loaded cleanWith cargo rich and rare .
And none too quick was done the tri ckFor as he sheered awayA gun -boat cleared the ocean swellAnd stu ck its nose in the bay .
Said Rorke,
“The revenue-man ’s not builtCan fool a fox like me”
He found a gate thro ’ a hidden strait,And danced on the open sea .
Now Revenue-man,it’s Catch who can
Said Rorke,
“an
’ we’ve slipped ye wel l ,Ho
,now for a chase and a cl ipping race
To harbor or to hel l .”
The storm-gust shook the Blue MaureenAnd blew her into the westLike thistle down in the summer breezeFrom Brown Knocmeldom ’
s crest.
3 2
Irish Mist and Sunshine
The skipper laughed to hi s flying craft,No revenue boat was seen
And would they match their smoky hulksTo sail with the B lue Maureen ! ”
Now lads to wind with her a bitWe’l l head for port again ,See yonder cloud like a dead man ’s shroud,It carries a hurri cane.
They looked and the erstwhile smiling southGrew dark—as dark as midnight .Dusky and dun became the sunAnd bal eful was his light .
B lack and blacker the skies became
Ti l l a white bo lt crashed o’erh ead,And out of the pall came a thunder cal!L ike the last trump of the dead .
Ho ! down the sail s—’ware fou l or slip !And watch ve well the southWe’ve saved our ship from the bailiff’s gripBut we’ve run in the devil ’s mouth !”
33
A curse on my eyes that see no sign,
A curse on the coming blast,T’will carry us bare to God knows whereNor leave us a rag to mast.”
He spoke,and the hissing hurri cane
Drove in to show him true ;It caught the ship in a gusty gripA nd blind to the north she flew .
Oh,blind she flew til l the pal lid crewFor fear could scarce draw breathSaid Rorke
,
“thi s drift i s steady and swiftAnd the end of it al l is death .
”
The end i s death,be it long or short,
Not mine the skill to knowOr grinding shock on a hidden rockOr flung on a white i ce-floe.
”
Then northward drove the B lue Maureen ,
Stil l n orth a day and night,With n ever a l ift nor once a shift
The hurricane proved its might .
34
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Steady and stark the Stranger stood,
Nor recked the reeling ship ;Then : “Dermot Rorke
,you have done
work
And sailed your last sea-trip .
Cast is the line,and the prize is mine
So now I claim your soul .”
The skipper he looked to the scowling rocks,And heard the breakers roll .
Oh life is sweet with hel l to meet,The skipper said with a sigh .
“I’l l sel l my soul when seven years rol lIf now you pass me by .
”
Your soul i s mine,said the demon then ,
“When e’er I will to take,But now you ’l l sel l your child as well ,And saved be for her sake .
“Her sou l i s bright with a wondrous light
(God’s grace within her grew!
I ’l l take that soul when seven years roll .
And ti ll that time spare you .
36
Burst from the skipper a cry of fear ;“What ! take my chi ld ! ” he said
,
Not for the earth and al l ’tis worthI ’d sel l a hair of her head.
”
Oh,Lord
,that rules the wind
,and stirs
The deep seas with Thy breath,
In this dread hour show forth Thy powerSave us from sin and death !”
The sinner prayed—hi s lips were stirredBy grace of his own chi ld
’s prayer ;At a distant shrine her call was heard,God crowned her pleading there .
A h ! n one may claim Christ’s aid in vain ;And now a child’s weak moanPierces the sky and there on highSweet mercy claims its own .
G reat is Thy saving Name, 0 Christ !
A far the Tempter flies,God
’s holy peace fal l s o ’er the seas,
The storm -blast moaning dies !
3 7
Irish Mist and Sunshine
By ! ueenstown Bay , on the sand-bars gray,
Beached high a boat is seen ;She sai ls no more where deep seas roar,
’Ti s the brave ship Blue Maureen .
No more she’l l breast the bi llow’s crest
On perilou s cruise out-bound,All peaceful now is the skipper’s brow,
God’s friendship he hath found .
Death’s cal l he waits,at the harbor gates
With hope God’s port to see ;May skies be fai r on his voyage there,And Christ hi s Pilot be !
Irish Mist and Sunshine
THE BRIDGE OF ORMONDE .
A B allad of Ki lkenny! .
Or-monde’s castle stones are highOrmonde
’s brazen gates are grand
Ri ch i s the Lord of Ormond,why
Coveted he my cot and land !
Steady and clear the river flowsUnder the B ridge of Ormonde
Out with the flood my spirit goesFar from the shades of OrmondI see the home was once mine own
Desolate now its cold hearth-stoneBarren the fields and weed -o ’er-grown
Stamped with the curse of Ormonde.
“Rent or the land” ! they said that dayAnd drove us out on the bleak highwayI cannot rest and I cannot prayCursing the greed of Ormonde.
39
Proudly above Kilkenny townTowers the wall s of OrmondeI wander up and I wander downOver the B ridge of Ormonde .My heart is broken
,my hopes are
No roof to shelter a hoary headBut he lies soft on a down b edSafe in the palace of Ormonde !
The tyrant —Safe ' Ah that dread desireMy soul i s seethed in hel li sh fire !
God rescue me from these whispers dire !
Close by the gates of Ormonde .Peacefu l and stil l the waters flow
Under the Bridge of Ormonde
Wou ld that my tortured breast were soHere by the hal l of Ormonde .
Mother of God ! (the sweet words bless!Hinder my hand from wickedness
Aid ! oh aid me in dark distressLone on the Bridge of Ormonde .
Irish IWist and Sunshine
WHEN THE SHADOW’S ON THEHEATHER .
An Irish Christmas B allad.
Slipping down the Curlew mountains to th
early Christmas Mass,
When the shadow’s of the heather and therime is on the grass
Want may chil l our highl and cottage ; troublesbide with us alway .
But the Saviour makes us happy on his holyChri stmas Day .
I must wake my dear ones early on this mornof peace and joy,
Little pet- lam b , pretty Norah , sturdy Neil, mynoble boy
,
Vshen the hearth i s clean and cosy and thedancing flames are gay,
A nd the kettle croons a wel come to the coming Christmas day.
41
Irish IlIist and Sunshine
Darkness l ingers on the val ley and the fairyhaunted glen
,
Eastward now t h e break of morning brings
the peace of God to men .
Near the mountain- rim,—first j ewel of the
Christ-Child ’s diadem,
Burns a star of radiant beauty like the Star ofB eth lehem .
Wake ye now,my sleeping treasures, wake ye
now,your mother’s j oy
,
Pretty Norah,drowsy lambkin, b lue-eyed Neil,
my laughing boyFor the shadow’s on the heather, and the rime
is on the grass ,And the angel s hurry earthward to the early
Christmas Mass .
See above you ivied abbey, where God’s ser
vants praved of old ,Fiery pil lars in the heavens—bars of silver,
shafts of goldSwing the gates of glory open , shining soul s
unnumbered pass,Let us hurry down to meet them at the early
Chri stmas Mass .
42
Irish .Mist and Sunshine
THE HANGING OF MYLES LEHANE .
The Baron of Graine and Cavan,his heart was
hard and cold,
He loved but his dogs and hunters—his godwas greed of gold .
Said he : “For my pride and pleasure I ’l l have
those broad lands free,
A nd he drove his serfs to the workhouse, orscourged them o ’er the sea.
B u t Myles Lehane of Cashel went up to theB aron ’
s door,
His heart like lead and bowed his head,—h enever had begged before.
Said he,
“for your honor’s payment long yearsI ’ve drudged like a beast,
’Twil l break my heart from the lan d to part.but leave u s the house at least,
For Nora,my wife
,i s dying,—the child is gone
before,’Twas fever kil led ou r darl ing, so the neigh
bors come no more.”
Irish IWist and Sunshine
Then the Baron swore a sounding oath,and
ordered the “dog” away,
And back thro ’ the rain went Myles Lehan eto his woful house that day.
Next morning’s sun rose grim and dun,and in
thro’ the val ley’s gate,
L ike a river red the “Death B rigade” defiledin martial state .
Oh,bold and gay they looked that day, theRoyal B ritish Horse
But they did a work would shame a Turk thatspares not the senseless corse .
Their sabres clanked ful l gallantly,their hoof
beat echoed plain,Till they came to halt with never a fau lt by
the house of Myles Lehane,And there they formed a cordon , al l strict to
the rules of war.
(Would they do so well to the Arab yel l on
A fri c sands afar ! !
45
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Within his straw roofed cottage,his own no
longer now,
Sat Myles Lehane deep -bowed in pain,cold
fear-drops on hi s brow,
Dread were the thoughts he wrestled,but nev
er uttered a sound,The hand of God lay heavy on him—the wrath
of men around .
His sick wife lay beside him,her life-tide ebb
ing fast,
And he prayed that ere the tr0 0 ps came thereher spirit might have pas sed .
The damp,death-reek was on her cheek, the
Priest was kneeling by,But she heard outside the soldiers’ stride, and
pitiful was her cry
Oh wirra, wirra ,
* the bitter day ! and have I
l ived so long,And must I lie by the road to die, that n ever
did man wrong !
Oh,Myles
,my heart’s light ever, come n ear
and hold my hand,’Twas gladsome May our wedding day and
sunshine fil led the land ;Wirra, (lit . ! Oh , Mary, Mary !
46
Irish IlIist and Sunshine
The birds sang gay our wedding day,the bend
ing skies were blue,
And you were there my king of men,and I was
fair to you .
Our joys and our heavy sorrows we sharedthem side by side
,
When the crops and cattle prospered—whenthe son ofou r bosoms died ;
But now when your blackest trouble is fallingupon your head
,
I must leave you,Myles
,my husband, to be
with the griefless dead .
Yet hear me,our God i s mercy,—He j udges
the deeds of men ;I ’ll pray at His throne for you , my own , until
we meet again .
”
Ban g on the door a gun-butt—hurtled a hoarsecommand :
Now,Myles Lehane, in the ! ueen
’s high
name,give up your house and land .
Irish IlIist and Sunshine
The hinges burst like rot-wood,and in the
bailiffs strode,
Now out with them , bag and baggage, to beg
their rent on the road !”
The priest stood up from the bedside,his tear
fil led eyes flashed fireOh
,men
,would ye shame your manhood to
do such deed for hi re,The wild beast chased and wounded may die
at last in hi s lair,
And would ye refuse like mercy to God’s ownimage there ! ”
Then spoke his lordship’s agent,—a fien d in
carnate he,You ’l l leave the house my prating priest, and
curse her ! so shal l she,fetch me the oil -can
,hearties—we’ll have
a bonfire good,And crack our j oke whil e the rats we smoke ,
as loyal subj ects should .
”
Irish Mist and Sunshine
They bore her out on the roadside,they l aid
her down to die,The flames from the burning cottage leaped
fiercely to the sky“B ut swifter on to the heavens the sou l of a
woman went,
The angel s found her a dwelling -place, and
never a word of rent .
’Ti s night in the gloomy valley,
’ti s n igh t o n
the hil l side drearHark ! heard ye a gunshot sounding—heard ye
a shriek of fear !A murderer flies in terror
,his deed was done
too well
The Baron of Graine and Cavan , his soul i sdeep in hel l !
A bullet has found its bil let out there on t h (
lonesome moor,No more he’l l grind , in hi s anger bl ind, t h
faces of God’s poor .
49
Irish Mist and Sunshine
And out on the widening ocean a swift ship
flies e’en now
The winds blow fair, yet one they bear, withCain-brand on his brow .
Now flash ye the news of horror to every landand clime
,
And mark the race with deep disgrace whosesons have wrought such crime !
What tho ’ in peaceful England a thousand
worse befal l,The Baron great had wealth and state and
lived in princely hall ,But mind ! no word of the woman—she died by
deed of law,
We rule them strong, we may do wrong, but,look ye
,find no flaw ,
And find u s a ready victim , it boots not whom
nor how,
The outraged State must vindicate her inj ured
! ustice now .
50
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Better to die and end it than live a trampledslave
With never a breath of freedom—no hope butthe waiting grave .
The precious gold_
we drudge for buys feast
for a glutton’s hall ;B etter than life of tort ure , be robbed at once
of all .”
A h ! Myl es Leh ane, of Cashel dost hear thydeath -bell toll !
The grim black flag they’ve hoisted—Christ’smercy on thy soul !
The guards drag forth their vi ctim , the hangman stands in wait,
Like watchers by a death-bed , the peopl e pray
at the gate.
The b lack mask vei l s his vi sion—h ! looked hislast on the sun ,
Now God and the V irgin aid him—the awfuldoom is done !
Thro ’ the grimy streets of Dublin the crowdscreep shuddering home
,
And down from the Wicklow summits thegusty rain -blasts come .
They weep through the darkened city to washits guilt away .
They tel l to the sullen Irish Sea a tale ofshame today .
I saw a singer of ballads,he sang a song in
the street,In the heart of Dublin City,
’mid bustle andhurry of feet,
Men ’s cheeks flushed hot to hear him, and
women’s went white with pain
I ’ve tried to sing you the song I heard—ThHanging of Myles Lehan e.
53
Irish Mist and Sunshine
THE FAIRY-STOLEN .
An Irish B allad.
Mother dear,my mother
,they have stolen me
awayAnd I miss you mother darling al l the live
long dayWhen the dreamy sun i s shining
,and the
fleecy clouds sail by,! ou are weeping for me, mother, and I hear
your bitter cry .
I wandered by the fairy Rath , I wandered al lalone .
I played,nor thought of danger, by the
haunted Ogam Ston eTil l the fairies from Knocsh eela came and car
ried me awayWhere they live within the mountain in their
palaces of clay .
54
Irish Mist and Sunsh ine
Mother dear, oh mother, they have crown edme Fairy ! ueen,
They have robed me in a vesture of the sunset’s wondrous sheen
,
They have dowered me with treasure thattheir fairy castles hold
,
But more precious to me mother your sweetki ss than shining gold .
“T hen the sun i s on the mountain
,and the
cloud shades come and goAnd drowsy brooklets downward ’neath the
nodding hazels flow ,
When the bee 1s in th e fox-glove,and in covert
hides the bare,Oh
,look upon the mountain then, for mother,
I am there.
But when the night has fallen and the mysti cmoonlight comes,
And darkly on the val ley’s breast the greywalled castle l ooms,
Oh then along the river’s banks we’re skipping n ear and far
Til l dawn with spears of silver drives awaythe Morning Star.
55
Irish Mist and Sunshine
’Twas but yesternight oh mother that wepassed the cottage by
Ah,my eager heart beat heavily to know thatyou were nigh .
I saw the tears you shed for me,I heard your
troubled prayer,But the fairy throng bore swift along, I
could not linger'
there .
Mother dear,my mother
,I am dying day by
day,
They may hold my lifeless body, but my spirit wil l not stay,
It will seek you mother darling thro’ the sunshine or the rain,
And the fairies of the mountain cannot stealyour child again .
ON KENMARE HEAD .
An Irish B allad.
Sweet Mother of the Cru cified
Be nigh to aid me now .
My old eyes view the sad gray seaBeyond the cliff’s high brow :
The wide,gray sea that sullenly
Beats on the black rocks bare,The whil e I moan
,bereft and lone,
On the Head of Old Kenmare .
Oh bitter day I lost for ayeThe dear ones of my soul !
And cruel sea ! —twixt t hem and meHow broad and bleak you rol l !
Two graves are lying far away
With none to kneel in pray’r
An d I,their mother, weeping here
On the Head of Old Kenmare .
57
Irish Mist and Sunshine
My Owen left our cabin doorA dreary winter day
,
Ful l quick I ’l l send ye gold galoreThe heavy rent to pay.
”
Mo nuar ! ’twas the kil ling wordThey wrote from over there,
“He’s dying and his love he sendsTo those in Old Kenmare .”
Then Mary,treasure of my life
How sweet her modest grace !My timid lamb
,she left me too
The hard world-winds to face .
Poor child,her heart was b roken soon
With al l a strange land’s care ;They laid her by her brother’s sideFar
,far from O ld Kenmare .
Now ever to my anguished sou lTheir dying voices reach,I hear them in the waves that rollAnd sob along the beach .
Irish Mist and Sunshine
CNOC-MAOL -DHOUN.
*
Ah ! sweet is Avondh uv that flows by lordlyCappoquin
And sighing low the south winds blow acrossthe V ale of Glin ,
God’s b lessings on our Irish land,as well in
field and town,But give me strength and let me stand on
Cnoc-Maol -Dh oun .
Now fai ry hands are finding me and friendlysprites are they,
Oh,fairy hands are binding me, we
’l l bear
you up,
” they say ;Come up where starry heather-flowers and
golden gorse encrownThe monarch of all fairy-mounds, our Cnoc
Maol Dh oun .
Th e brown Smooth Hill .—In Cou n ty Wat erford, Ireland.
60
Irish Mist and Sunshine
I yi eld me to their magic spell,its power i s not
gain- said,
We leave at once the lowly del l , and seek t h emountain’s head
,
I feel the breeze of ocean now ,I smell the
fraoi ch brown,
And cooled the fever of my brow on CnocMaol -Dh ou n .
A far the shining Suir leaps A rdfinan’s wood
lands o’er,
Afar the thundrous billow sweeps thine echoing wall A rdmore ;
On sunny hill and misty vale my vi sion rangesdown ,
And fancy teems with olden dreams, on CnocMaol -Dh oun .
On yonder plain,in war -array, I see the hosts
of Finn ,And mighty chiefs of ancient day,—I hear
their arms’ din ;Famed Oisin of t h e Yellow Locks and Conan
of Renown ,Their shadows ri se before mine eyes , on Cn oc
Maol -Dh oun .
61
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Pass Conall and the Red Branch Knights,
and Maev, to confli ct dire,
See great Cu cu lain ,
“Lord of Fights” his speara flame of fire .
A moment through the shifting mist sad Deirdre’s face is shown,
Kind fairies grant the sight ye list,on Cnoc
Maol -Dh oun .
Ah ! poor in sordid wealth of gold, but rich isErin stil l
In magic spel l and legend old, that cling t oheath and hill ,
Dearer than gold a thousand fold, God’s beau
ties rare that crown ,
The streams that flow thy heights below o ldCn oc-Maol -Dh oun .
62
Irish Mist and Sunshine
LAMENT FOR CILL CEANNA IGH .
It i s my bitter sorrow that the heavy-rollingmain
Betwixt me and the land I love up-swel l s to
mock my pain ;A weary load is on me that the Sprin g is here
again
And I far away from Kilkenny.
This cheerless exile, day by day, more griev
ou sly I rue,And foreign skies grow dark to me recal ling
ski es of blue,Fade out
,ye stretching city streets , and smilethe fields I knew
,
In the gold-misty vales of Kilkenny.
Irish Mist and Sunshine
On Su ir’s banks the winds of March awake t h e
daffodi l
In sprouting groves by Clodagh’s stream t h
cuckoo’s numbers thril l,
The saucy, sunny primroses in hol low and onhill
‘ Are scenting the gale of’
Kilk en ny.
Oh ye that pass o ’er heath and grass,al l in the
morning dawn,
The heights to breast,your brows caressed
with breeze from"
Sliav-na-mon ;Til l Suir shines in golden light, a nd every
shadow ’s gone,
Bless God that your home’s in Kilk en nv .
A long the winding country ways the hawthorn hedge i s white,
The red breast from his mossy nest doth watchyou out of sight ;
Oh,sweet the day in balmy May , and soft thedewy night
That fal l s o’er my home in Kilk ennv .
64
Irish Mist ana Sunshine
To l ist the ploughman’s cheery voi ce,—thebou chal
’s whistle call
,
To hear the pure faced cailins sing that guide
the cows to stal l ;To watch the stalwart hurlers leap and strike
the bounding bal l,
Mo bhron that I ’m far from Kilkenny.
There i s a heather-belted hil l lifts high itssummit bare
And up its sides the pleasant fields are c limb
ing everywhere ;If I’d my way
,
’tis there today I ’d breathe theblessed air
,
And greet my old friends in Kilkenny .
0 Erin, call thy scattered sons, and bid themall unite
“To long in alien wars ye bleed—unblest thatfruitl ess fight,
Arise again,unconquered men , do battle for
the right,And free the fair homes of Kilkenny.
65
BALLAD OF THE BANSHEE .
B ack thro’ the hil l I hurried homeEver my boding sou l would sayMother and sister bid thee comeLong
,too long has been thy stay.
Stars shone out, but the moon was paleTouched by a black cloud’s ragged rimSudden I heard the Banshee’s wailWhere Malmor’s war-tower rises grim .
! ui ckly I strode across the slopePassed the grove and the Fairy Mound
(Gloomy the moat where blind owls mope!Scarcely breathin g
,I glan ced around.
66
Back by the grove and haunted moundO ’er the lone road I know not howHearkened afar my baying houndHome at last at the low hil l’s brow .
Lon e the cottage—the door flung wideFour light s burned—oh sight of dread !Breathing a prayer
,I rushed inside,
“Mercy,God !” ’twas my mother
,dead !
Dead and white as the fallen leaf
(Kneeling my sister prayed near by!Wild as I wrestled with my griefFar and faint came the Banshee’s cry .
68
Irish Mist and Sunshine
THE RED WALLS OF LIMERICK.
A B rigade B allad.
There’s bitter woe in Erin since the WildGeese sailed away
,
The clairseach“ sobs with sorrow now, that
erst rang loud and gay ;Unheard the tramp of Sarsfield’s Horse and
D ’Usson ’s bugle-bray .
Mo nuar ! Mo nuar ! the lost pride of L imeri ck !
The treaty is broken and our wrongs are um
redressed,
A murdered peasant’s hanging high on yonder mountain crest ;
See there a starving mother, with a dead childto her breast .
Mo nuar ! Mo nuar ! the black woes of Lim
eri ck !
Clairseach—th e h arp .
Irish IlIist and Sunshine
Go Dh ia, but these deathly days hang l ike afuneral pall
Mine eyes have seen the battle break ’gain st
bel ching fort and wal l ;Dutch Wi l l iam’s stormers stagger back from
shearing blade and ball .Mo nuar ! Mo nuar ! the Red Wall s of Lim
eri ck !
How leaped our hearts when Lu can ’s Horse
swept by at thunderou s pace !
How cheered we Dillon’s dancing plume, and
B erwi ck’s martial grace !
Ah ! days indeed ! Our tender maids feared notgrim death to face,
Mo nuar ! Mo nuar ! the lone homes of Lim
eri ck !
But Sarsfield and hi s “Slashers” al l havesail ed away to France,
On Europe’s shaking battle-fields their fierychargers prance,
And Erin—hapless Erin,now has not one
guarding lance .
Mo nuar ! Mo nuar ! the dead hopes of L im
eri ck !
70
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Broad Shannon’s eddying waters hurry outward to the sea,
A hundred exile-bearing ships adown its widegate flee !
Alone I wait the shadows of the night that is
to be.
Mo -
nuar ! Mo nuar ! the lost cause of Limerick !
7 I
Irish Mist and Sunshine
LAV -LAIDHIR ABU.
(“Abou t this time a great disgrace fell upon the
noble family ofO’B rien ; for the Ch ieftai n Mur
rough, a man brave beyond compare, and ofcomely parts, wen t over to the English wi th part ofhisclan, and waged war wi thou t mercy against h is
kinsmen and former friends. So terrible in sooth
were h is devastations that he th ereafter was
known to the Irish as‘Murrough the B urner.
’
Old Chron icler .
My head is bowed,and my heart is breaking,
My Clairseach dumb for my country’s shame,This burden black from my spirit shaking,I ’l l strike again to an ancient name.
Lae-Laidh ir Abu !
That shout thril led many a field of fame,Lap -Laidh ir Abu !
7 2
Irish IWist and Sunshine
A bard am I of a house dishonored ;A song unsaddened no longer mine ;
Loud rang my harp amid hosts embannered,
When Erin’s shield was the race of B rian .
Lao-Laidh ir Abu !
Lord God,look down on a princely lineLae -Laidh ir Abu !
Flash forth, Kin cora, thy hall s of glory,Come
,famed Clontarf
,to my sad sou l ’s
sight ,A thousand fields where in battle goryThe Strong Hand wrestled for Erin’s right.
Lav-Laidh ir Abu !
Thrice cursed be h e that its strength wouldbl ight
,
Lao-Laidh ir Abu .’
Accursed be he upon plai n and mountain,A ccursed again upon shore and wave,
Shame’s hot breath poison his heart’s life
fountain,Shallow and red hi s polluted grave .
Lau -Laidh ir Abu !
A haughty house,has it borne a slave !
Lav-Laidh ir Abu !
73
Irish Mist ana Sunshine
Murrough the Burner ! from Croome to Conn aught
I see the smoke of your conquests rise ;Maddened with slaughter
,your heme and bon
nagh t
Affright out val leys with murderous cries .Lap -Laidh ir Abu !
The dumb beasts e’en from their presence flies ,Lav-Laidh ir Abu !
Green bosomed Th omond, your bloom is faded,Proud Cash el’s portal s your pride i s fled,Grim Murrough
’s butchers, by Satan aided,
Have made wide Desmond a house of dead .
Lav-Laidh ir Abu !
But ri se,ye clan s to a vengeance dread !
Lap -Laidh ir Abu !
Afar I hearken the banshee calling
Fierce Th ommond’s chief to his bloody
tomb
Murrough the Burner,the bo lt i s fal l ing ,
Thy gibbering vi ctims around thee loom .
Lav-Laidh ir Abu !
Meet for a traitor a traitor’s doom ,
Lav-Laidh ir Abu !
74
Irish Mist and Sunshine
On marched the North Cork Regiment,a gal
land sight to see ;Their tall plumes fluttered in the breeze
,their
bugles brayed with glee ;Past fair Mooncoin
,past G ranagh
’s tower ,
past ancient Waterford,
And soon o ’er Wexford’s war- scarred fields
their crimson banner soared .
What fires are those that flash on high ! Whatshrieks that pierce the air !
’Tis not the flame of cannon’s mouth,or battle
trumpet ’s blare .Oh ‘Wexford ! ’ti s thy roofs that b laze, and
’ti s thy women ’s cry ;Now up
, and grasp thy gory pike the ven
gean ce hour i s nigh !
The mornings l ight was glancing bright on
many a gliding ril l,The ri sing sun was burnishing the slopes of
Oulart Hil l ;
Irish Mist and Sunshine
From storied Wexford’
s guarded gate a trainof yeomen passed
They l itt le dreamed the march that day wasfated for their last .
At n oon on Cu lart’s moss-clad height loud
ran g the musketryAnd Wexford flung upon the foe her peasant
chivalry,
Short shrift the ruffian spoi lers found when
gleamed the dreaded pike,For vengeance nerved the patriot’s arm and
pointed where to strike.
Old Enn i scorthy n ext saw fall th e “rebel’s”
blow of hate,When fled the fear-struck yeomanry from fa
mous Duffry Gate ;They fel l as fal l the ripened crops when tem
pest lashed them down ,
And few and pale the fugitives that en teredWexford Town .
77
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Such was the fate well-merited befell thatfiendish crew
The ravishers of peaceful homes, the butchersof Carnew .
Light,Wexford
,l ight thy triumph fires
,til l
hi ll and vall ey glowAnd bless thy peasant-warriors that n ever
feared a foe !
The patriot flames they k indled then have
never since grown cold,Today in Bargy and Idrone are hearts that
beat as bold ,And tho’ the “Boys of Wexford” failed on fat.
al V inegar Hil l,They’re ready for another efigh t and
’love theircountry s til l .”
Irish Mist and Sunshine
THE P‘IKEMEN .
A B allad of’98.
The troops are out in Bargy and the yeomenin Idrone
,
The pitch -caps and the gory lash make guiltless victims groan .
Red murder stalks the vi llages,and high the
roof trees flame,
Arise ye, men of Wexford now, or live in last
ing shame !! e pikemen, bo ld pikemen,Old Wexford calls her pikemen .
See,at her cal l
,they muster all ,
For ven geance now ,grim pikemen !
The plou gh they leave by Slan ey’s banks , th e
scythe in soft Imayle,
And out through famous Scollagh gap, theysurge l ike autumn gale .
7 9
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Bold hearts are there from Ballaghkeen and
wooded Sh ilmaliere.
Sends many a stalwart rifleman to fil l the feewith fear .
The pikemen,the pikemen
,
The stormy-cheering pikemen,
Broad Barrow’s flood shal l flow withblood
,
Rush in,ye reb el pikemen !
Above on sunny Camaru s the fraioch -blossoms
b low,
Grim massacre and pil lage fright the fertilevales below,
Rough Corrigrew i s basking in the scentedsummer gale,
In Gorey at the mountain-foot i s heard the
maiden’s wail .
! e pikemen , brave pikemen ,
Ha ! tarry not, ye pikemen !’Tis yours to quell that spawn of hell ,For hearth s and homes, ye pikemen !
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Th e morn ing sun i s burn i shing the sl opes ofOulart Hill .
His low beam strikes on serried pikes, a sightthe soul to thrill .
Like flame athwart the ripened fields,from
Wexford’s guarded gateThe “red North Cork”—their life- sands run !
march out to meet their fate .The pikemen
,the pikemen
,
The dread,resistless pikemen
,
Grim harvest now, on Cu lart’s brow
They reap,the rebel pikemen .
High noon in Enniscorthy—from the far
famed Duffry GateThe tyrant’s smoking cann on hurl their mes
sengers of hate,In vain
,in vain
,his bullets gain
,and thunder
loud the guns,
Those ranks accursed,the pikemen burst
old Wexford’s dashing sons !
The pikemen,the pikemen ,
They staggered from the pikemen,Their black hear-t s feelThe patriot steel
,
The vengeance of the pikemen .
81
Irish Mist and Sunshine
The “ancient Briton’s” went to death on Tubberneering
’s Plain
,
The Irish green at Taghmon waved o’er manya foeman slain,
Oh, for an Owen Roe again to lead with Spanish steel !
From Wexford’s bri stling vanguard then,op
pression’s ranks should reel .The pikemen
, t h e pikemen,A l eader for the pikemenThey heard with fear
,your stormy
cheer
Ye mocked at death,
fierce pikemen !
’Ti s true,alas
, ye fought, and fai led whenstubborn Ross ran red
,
The fatal slope of V inegar Hil l was mattedwith your dead .
Unconquered souls ! your fame shall livewhil e runs the rapid Nore,
All honor,deathless pikemen to your green
graves evermore !
The pikemen,the pikemen ,
When Erin needs her pikemen ,God send her then heroic men
Like Wexford’s fearless pikemen .
82
Irish Mist and Sunshine
The cosy l itt le vil lages that shelter from themist,
Where the great West Wall s by ocean-sprayare ki ssed ;
The happy little vi l lages that cuddle in the sunWhen blackberries ripen and the harvest work
i s done.
Corry-meela, Croagh nak eela, Clogher, Cahirc iveen ,
Cappah aroe, Carrigaloe, Cashel and Coo
sheen,Cast lefin n and Carrigtohil l , Cruml in, Clara,
Clane,
Carrigaholt, Carrigaline, Cloghjordan and
Coolrain .
The dreamy l ittle vil lages,where by the fire at
night,
Old Shanachies with ghostly tale the boldesthearts affright ;
The crooning of the wind-blast i s the wailingBanshee’s cry
,
And when the silver hazel s stir th ev say t h e
fairies sigh .
84
Irish Mist and Sunshine
Kilfenora,Ki lfinnane, Kinn ity, Killylea,
Kilmogan ny, Kiltamagh , Ki lronan and Kilrea
,
Killashandra,Kilmacow
,Ki llin ey
,Killa
shee,
Kil lenaule, Killmysh all, Killorglin and Kil!
leagh .
Leave the little vil lages,o’er the b lack seas go,
Learn the stranger’s wel come, learn the exi le‘
s
woe,Leave the little vi llages
,but think not to for
get
Afar they’ll rise before your eyes to rack your
bosoms yet .Moneymore
,Moneygal l
,Monivea and Moyne,
Mullinahone,Mu llinavat t , Mullagh and
Mooncoin,
Shanagolden,Shanballymore, Stranorlar
and Slane,Toberah eena, Toomyvara, Tempo and Sta
bane .
Irish Mist and Sunshine
On the Southern Llan os, —north where
strange light gleams,
Many a yearning exile sees them in his dreamsDying voices murmur (passed al l pain and
care!“Lo ! the l ittle vil lages
,God has heard our
prayer.
L isdoonvarna,Lissadi l
,Lisdargan
,Lienas
kea,
Portglenone,Portarl ington
,Portumna
,Port
magee,
Clon egam and Clonegowan , Cloondara andClon ae
,
God bless the little vi l lages and guard themnight and day !
86
Irish Mist and Sunshine
THE SWEET RIV ER SUIR.
The gen tle Shu re that mak ing way
B y sweet Clonmell, adorns rich Waterford.
Spen cer’s Faerie ! u een , B ook I V ,
Can to ! I .
From Devil ’s B it to Tuu rles, from Golden un toCahir
By castle-crowned Ardfinan running pure
Past Carrick and Kilsheelan,ever sparkling,
ever wheeling
F low the waters of the sweet river Suir.
The Galtees and Sh eveardagh send their tributes to its flood
The Anmer comes from storied Sliav-na-mon
The sunshine and the shadows fo llow fastacross the meadows
Till the dews o’ the morn are gone.
Irish Misi and Sunshine
By ri ch flowery fields of the p leasant goldenvale
By broken Norman tower and hamlet whi t eThe waters of the Suir saddest bosom would
al lureA s they dance in the sun ’s mel low light.
The w inds croon and sob thro’
ruined abbey
wall s
Low music floats from every fairy -mound
And weird,haunting rhymes of long-forgotten
times
In the flowing of the Suir resound .
In cool,sheltered glens where glossy ha! el s
nod
The wi ld linnet thrill s a j oyful layThe thrush and blackbird singing , sweetes t
melodies are flinging
Thro’ brier-scented groves al l dav .
88
Irish Mist and Su nshine
’Tis there now I ’d be, for my heart is everthere
,
Where Tippreary and Kilkenny plains
stretch outWhere the rival Gaels are dashing
, and the
stalwart hurlers’ clashingIs heard above the throng’s great shout .
Ah fai r i s Killarn ey, where the smile of God is
seen
But when this life i s ended and dust with dustAnd dear to me thy woodlands Glenmalu re
i s blendedLet me rest by the sweet river Suir.
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