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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 263 |
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GEORGE PETRIE (1789-1866)
PEARL OF THE WHITE BREAST
From the Irish
T
HERE'S a colleen fair as May, For a year and for a day I've sought by every way—Her heart to gain. There's no art of tongue or eye, Fond youths with maidens try,
But I've tried with ceaseless sigh—Yet tried in vain. If to France or far-off Spain, She'd cross the watery main, To see her face again—The sea I'd brave. And if 'tis Heaven's decree, That mine she may not be, May the Son of Mary me—in mercy save !
O thou blooming milk-white dove,
To whom I've given true love,
Do not ever thus reprove—My constancy.
There are maidens would be mine,
With wealth in hand and kine,
If my heart would but incline—To turn from thee.
But a kiss, with welcome bland,
And a touch of thy dear hand,
Are all that I demand,—Wouldst thou not spurn;
For if not mine, dear girl,
O Snowy-breasted Pearl!
May I never from the Fair—With life return 1 |
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