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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 371 |
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Now thou art cold on the mountain, buried and silent and blind, Dumb as the hills and the stars, blind as the waves of the sea. A clatter of treacherous tongues goes sailing along the wind, And many an evil thought is spoken in hatred of thee.
Was it Fergus whose envious breath first cast o'er thy shining name A poison of venomous words in the midst of the mourning host, Till thy glory shone before them a wicked and perilous flame, And thy beauty seemed but a snare, thy valor an empty boast ?
They have buried thy golden deeds under the cairn on the hill, And no one shall sing of thy hero soul in the days to come; For the sky is blue with silence, and the stars are very still, The sea lies dreaming about thee ; even the mountains are dumb. |
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