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The Song Book 3° 5
" Sad is my fate," said the heart-broken stranger, "The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee;
But I have no refuge from famine and danger, A home and a country remain not to me:
Never again in the green sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers liv'd, shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers, And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!"
" Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore; But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,
And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more. Oh, cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace where no perils can chase me ? Never again shall my brothers embrace me ?
They died to defend me, or live to deplore!"
" Where is my cabin door fast by the wild wood ?
Sisters and sire did ye weep for its fall ? Where is the mother that look'd on my childhood ?
And where is the bosom friend dearer than all ? Oh, my sad heart! long abandoned by pleasure, Why did it dote on a fast fading treasure ? Tears like the rain-drop may fall without measure,
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall."
"Yet, all its sad recollection suppressing, One dying wish my lone bosom can draw j
Enn! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing! Land of my forefathers, Erin go bragh!
Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean!
Apd thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion, Erin mavoumeen, Erin go bragh/"
Words by Campbell. Tune Thou blooming Treasure. From Bunting's Music of Ireland.