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128 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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'Twas on an April eve
That I first met her; Many an eve shall pass
Ere I forget her. Since my young heart has been
Wrapped in a whirl, Thinking and dreaming of
Maire my girl.
She is too kind and fond
Ever to grieve me, She has too pure a heart
E'er to deceive me. Were I Tyrconnell's chief
Or Desmond's earl, Life would be dark, wanting
Maire my girl.
Over the dim blue hills
Strays a wild river, Over the dim blue hills
Rests my heart ever; Dearer and brighter than
Jewels or pearl, Dwells she in beauty there,
Maire my girl.
THE RISING OF THE MOON (a. d. 1798)
"/^vH, then, tell me, Shawn O'Ferrall, I 1 Tell me why you hurry so ? " ^"^^ " Hush ! ma bouchal, hush, and listen;:
And his cheeks were all a-glow: " I bear ordhers from the Captain — |
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