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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 337 |
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Good King Cathal, royally, Surely will enjoy a lay,
Fair and fine as silk; From his heart his woe I call, When I sing, heroical, How we rode, so stoical,
O'er the Sea of Milk. |
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THINGS DELIGHTFUL1
From the Irish of Oisin
S
WEET is a voice in the land of gold, Sweet is the calling of wild birds bold ; Sweet is the shriek of the heron hoar, Sweet fall the billows of Bundatrore.
Sweet is the sound of the blowing breeze, Sweet is the blackbird's song in the trees; Lovely the sheen of the shining sun, Sweet is the thrush over Casacon.
Sweet shouts the eagle of Assaroe, Where the gray seas of MacMorna flow, Sweet calls the cuckoo the valleys o'er, Sweet, through the silence, the corrie's roar.
Fionn, my father, is chieftain old Of seven battalions of Fianna bold; When he sets free all the deerhounds fleet To rise and to follow with him were sweet.
1 The original appeared in the Dean of Lismore's Book. |
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