Clad half such witching beauty as that ould plaid shawl.

Oh! some men sigh for riches, and some men live for fame,

And some on history's pages hope to win a glorious

name;

My aims are not ambitious, and my wishes are but small

You might wrap them all together in an ould plaid shawl.

I'll seek her all through Galway, and I'll seek her all through Clare,

I'll search for tale or tidings of my traveler everywhere,

For peace of mind I'll never find until my own I call That little Irish cailin in her ould plaid shawl.

SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON

(1810-1866)

CEAN DUBH DEELISH'

UT your head, darling, darling, darling,

Your darling black head my heart above;
O mouth of honey with the thyme for fragrance,
Who with heart in breast could deny you love?

O many and many a young girl for me is pining,
Letting her locks of gold to the cold winds free,
For me, the foremost of the gay young fellows,
But I'd leave a hundred, pure love, for thee.

Then put your head, darling, darling, darling,
Your darling black head my heart above;
O mouth of honey with the thyme for fragrance,
Who with heart in breast could deny you love?

DRIMMIN DHU

Translated from Irish.

Drimmin Dhu Dheelish, the dear black cow, was another pseudonym for Ireland, and there is a very sweet and plaintive air of that name.

A

H, Drimmin dhu dheelish, a pride of the flow,"
Ah where are your folks?—are they living or no?
They're down in the ground, 'neath the sod ly-
ing low,

Expecting King James with the crown on his brow.

1 Cean dubh deelish, dear black head.

2 The grassy part of a bog.

But if I could get sight of the crown on his brow,
By day and night traveling to London I'd go;
Over mountains of mist and soft mosses below,
Till it beat on the kettle drums Drimmin dhu O.

Welcome home, welcome home, Drimmin dhu O!
Good was your sweet milk for drinking, I trow;
With your face like a rose, and your dewlap of snow,
I'll part from you never, Drimmin dhu O!

LAMENT OVER THE RUINS OF THE
ABBEY OF TIMOLEAGUE

L

ONE and weary as I wandered
By the bleak shore of the sea,
Meditating and reflecting

On the world's hard destiny;

Forth the moon and stars 'gan glimmer
In the quiet tide beneath,
For on slumbering spray and blossom
Breathed not out of heaven a breath.

On I went in sad dejection,

Careless where my footsteps bore
Till a ruined church before me
Opened wide its ancient door, —

Till I stood before the portals,
Where of old were wont to be,
For the blind, the halt, and leper,
Alms and hospitality.

Still the ancient seat was standing
Built against the buttress gray
Where the clergy used to welcome
Weary travelers on their way.

There I sat me down in sadness,
'Neath my cheek I placed my hand,
Till the tears fell hot and briny
Down upon the grassy land.

There, I said in woful sorrow,
Weeping bitterly the while,
Was a time when joy and gladness
Reigned within this ruined pile : -

Was a time when bells were tinkling,
Clergy preaching peace abroad,
Psalms a-singing, music ringing
Praises to the mighty God.

Empty aisle, deserted chancel,
Tower tottering to your fall,
Many a storm since then has beaten
On the gray head of your wall!

Many a bitter storm and tempest

Has your roof-tree turned away, Since you first were formed a temple To the Lord of night and day.

Holy house of ivied gables,

That wert once the country's pride, Houseless now in weary wandering Roam your inmates far and wide.

1

Lone you are to-day, and dismal,
Joyful psalms no more are heard
Where, within your choir, her vesper
Screeches the cat-headed bird.

Ivy from your eaves is growing,
Nettles round your green hearth-stone,
Foxes howl, where, in your corners,
Dropping waters make their moan.

Where the lark to early matins
Used your clergy forth to call,
There! alas no tongue is stirring,
Save the daws' upon the wall.

Refectory cold and empty,
Dormitory bleak and bare,
Where are now your pious uses,
Simple bed and frugal fare?

Gone your abbot, rule, and order, Broken down your altar stones; shelter

Naught see I beneath your

Save a heap of clayey bones.

Oh! the hardship, oh! the hatred,
Tyranny, and cruel war,
Persecution and oppression,

That have left you as you are!

I myself once also prospered;
Mine is, too, an altered plight.
Trouble, care, and age have left me
Good for naught but grief to-night.