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102 Irish melodies.
It is true, it is true, we are shadows cold and wan ; And the fair and the brave whom we lov'd on earth are gone f
But still, thus ev'n in death,
So sweet the living breath Of the fields and the flow'rs in our youth we wander'd o'er,
That ere, condemn'd, we go
To freeze 'mid Hecla's * snow, We would taste it awhile, and think we live once more! |
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O'DONOHUE'S MISTRESS.
Of all the fair months that round the sun In light-link'd dance their circles run,
Sweet May, shine thou for me ; For still, when thy earliest beams arise, That youth, who beneath the blue lake lies,
Sweet May, returns to me.
Of all the bright haunts where daylight leaves Its lingering smile on golden eves,
Fair Lake, thou 'rt dearest to me; For, when the last April sun grows dim, Thy Naiads prepare his steed ■}• for him
Who dwells, bright Lake, in thee.
• Paul Zealand mentions that there is a mountain in some part of Ireland, where the ghosts of persons who have died in foreign lands walk about and converse with those they meet, like living people. If asked why they do not return to their homes, they say they are obliged to go to Mount Hecla, and disappear immediately.
f The particulars of the tradition respecting O'Donohue and his White Horse may be found in Mr. Weld's Account of Killarney, or |
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