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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 85 |
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Pale, pale she grew, and two large tears
Dropped down like heavy rain, And she fell to earth with a woeful cry,
For she broke her heart in twain.
And out of her tears two fountains rose
That watered all the ground, And out of her heart an apple-tree grew
That heard the water's sound.
Oh, woe were the kings, and woe were the queens,
And woe were the people all; And the poets sang their love and their death
In cottage and in hall.
And the men of Ulster a tablet made
From the wood of Baile's tree, And the men of Leinster did the like
Of Aillinn's apple-tree.
And on the one the poets wrote
The lover-tales of Leinster, And on the other all the deeds
That lovers wrought in Ulster.
Now when a hundred years had gone
The King of all the land Kept feast at Tara, and he bade
His poets sing a strand.
They sang the sweet unhappy tale,
The noble Aillinn's lay. " Go, bring the tablets," cried the King
" For I have wept to-day." |
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