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HIBERNIAN SONGSTER. |
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MY CONNOR.
His eye is as black as the sloe.
And his skin is as white as Its blossom-He loves me; but hate to the foe
Has the Innermost place in his bosom; I forgive him, for sorrow unmixed.
His child, .like himself, should inhorit, If hatred to chains had not fixed
The strong kernel-stone in his spirit.
The lark never soars but to sing—
Nor sings but to soar; but my Connor Surpasses the lark on the wing,
Tho' walking the earth without honor! The fetters—the fetters awake
Deep passionate songs that betoken The part and the place he will take,
When bonds are held up to be broken.
He loves me more dearly than life,
Yet would he forsake me to-morrow. And lose both his blood and his wife,
To free his loved island from sorrow; And could I survive but to see
The land without shackle upon her, I freely a widow would be,
Tho' dearly I dote on my Connor.
There Is hope for the land where the ties
'Twlxt husband and wife have been reckoned As virtue the first, in strange eyes,
Yet are, in their own, but the second! The sun never shines from the sky,
If the country be long in dishonor— With' women—all braver than I—
And men—all as brave as my Connor. |
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THE WELCOME.
Come In the evening, or come in the morning, Come when you're looked for, or come without warning; Kisses and'welcome you'll find here before you, And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you. Light is my heart since the day we were plighted, Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted; The green of the trees looks far greener than ever, And the linnets are singing, "true lovers! don't sever."
I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them;
Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom.
I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you;
I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you. O! your step's like the rain to the summer-vex'd farmer, Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor; I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me, Then, wandering, I'll wish you, in silence, to love me.
We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie, We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy, We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river, Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her. O! she'll whisper you, "Love as unchangeably beaming, And trust, when in secret most tunefully streaming, Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver. As our souls flow in one down eternity's river."
So come in the evening, or come in the morning,
Come when you're look'd for, or come without warning,
Kisses and welcomes you'll find here before you,
And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you! |
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