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298 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF THE FAIR HILLS OF IRELAND
From the Irish. '
_. A very close translation, in the original meter, of an Irish song of unknown authorship dating from the end of the seventeenth century. The refrain means " O sad lament."
A
PLENTEOUS place is Ireland for hospitable cheer,
Uileacdn dubh O ! Where the" wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley ear,
Uileacdn dubh O ! There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand, And her forest paths in summer are, by falling waters
fanned; There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i' the yellow sand
On the fair hills of holy Ireland.
Curled he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee,
Uileacdn dubh O ! Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea,
Uileacan dubh O ! And I will make my journey, if life and health but
stand, Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant
strand, -» And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and higlrcommand,
For the fair hills'of holy Ireland.
Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground, Uileacan dubh O ! |
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