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376 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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And since we can't remain, May we shortly meet again,
To fill another cruiscin Ian, Ian, Ian,
To fill another cruiscin, Ian.
CUSHLA MA CHREE
This song is a bardic fragment, of which both the name of the author and translator have been lost.
B
EFORE the sun rose at yester-dawn, I met a fair maid adown the lawn:
The berry and snow To her cheeks gave its glow, And her bosom was fair as the sailing swan. Then, pulse of my heart! what gloom is thine ?
Her beautiful voice more hearts hath won Than Orpheus' lyre of old had done;
Her ripe eyes of blue
Were crystals of dew, On the grass of the lawn before the sun. And, pulse of my heart ! what gloom is thine? |
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THE DEAR AND DARLING BOY
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HEN first unto this town I came, With you I fell in love, And if I could but gain you I'd vow I'll never rove. There's not a girl in all this town
I love as well as thee. I'll rowl you in my arms, My cushla gal machree. |
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