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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 305 |
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Who knows on earth save Jurlaugh Daune ? (Save us all from Fairy thrall.
Behold the banks are green and bare, No pit is here wherein to fall;
Ay, at the fount you well may stare,
But naught save pebbles smooth is there, And small straws twirling, one and all.
Hie thee home, and be thy prayer, Save us all from Fairy thrall! |
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THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOR
COME, see the Dolphin's anchor forged; 'tis at a white heat now: The bellows ceased, the flames decreased; tho' on the forge's brow The little flames still fitfully play thro' the sable mound; And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking
round, All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only
bare; Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there.
The windlass strains the tackle chains, the black mound
heaves below; And red and deep, a hundred veins burst out at every
throe: It rises, roars, rends all outright—O Vulcan, what a
glow! 'Tis blinding white, 'tis blasting bright; the high sun
shines not so! |
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