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292 THE GOLDEN TRE4SUR.T OF |
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The dewy blue blossom that hangs on the spray More blue than her eyes human eye never saw.
Deceit never lurked in its beautiful ray.
Dear lady, I drink to you, slainte go bragh !*
- To gaze on her beauty the young hunter lies
'Mong the branches that shadow her path in the grove. But alas, if her eyes The rash gazer surprise, All eyesight departs from the victim of love, And the blind youth steals home with his heart full of
sighs. O pride of the Gael of the lily-white palm !
O coolun of curls to the grass at your feet! At the goal of delight and of honor I am To boast such a theme for a song so unmeet. |
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OWEN BAWN
This refers to the rigid prohibition of the intermarriage with the native Irish by William de Burghs, Earl of Ulster, in A. D. 1333, which led to the Irish return from beyond the river Bavvn and the expulsion of the English from all Ulster.
M
Y Owen Bawn's hair is of thread of gold spun; Of gold in the shadow, of light in the sun; All curled in a coolun the bright tresses are — They make his head radiant with beams like a star !
My Owen Bawn's mantle is long and is wide, To wrap me up safe from the storm by his side: |
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1 Slainte go bragh, your health forever. |
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