And sometimes through the long still day Stud all your shores with prosperous towns! A day will come before you guess, And, loathing, fly the hateful place, For where, remote from smoke and noise, I see her in those coming days, I see an envied haunt of peace, Calm and untouched; remote from roar, LOVED a love—a royal love In the golden long ago; And she was fair as fair could be, The foam upon the broken sea, As my own love—my royal love - II And she had stately palace halls In the golden long ago; And warriors, men of stainless swords, To cheer my love-my royal love III She wore a stately diadem In the golden long ago, My queenly love-my royal love— IV Alas for my love-my royal love Of the golden long ago! For gone are all her warrior bands, V But there is hope for my royal love Of the golden long ago; Beyond the broad and shining sea That yet will come to make her free, And hedge her round with gleaming spears, And crown her queen for all the years, My only love-my royal love Of the golden long ago. F JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU ABHRAIN AN BHUIDEIL Address of a Drunkard to a Bottle of Whiskey ROM what dripping cell, through what fairy glen, Where 'mid old rocks and ruins the fox makes his den, Over what lonesome mountain, Acuishle mo chroidhe! Where gauger never has trod, Sweet as the flowery sod, Wild as the breath Of the breeze on the heath, And sparkling all o'er like the moon-lighted fountain, Come, light up my fancy, and open my heart. Oh, beautiful ruin My life my undoin' Soft and fierce as a pantheress, Dream of my longing, and wreck of soul, I never knew love till I loved you, enchantress ! At first, when I knew you, 'twas only flirtation, I curse and adore you, I wish 'twas again I cared little about you, Could do well without you, But would just laugh and view you; Oh! terrible darling, See, now, where you've brought me - To sleep by the roadside, and dress out in rags. Dreams come around me The dew of my childhood and life's morning beam; Now I sleep by the roadside, a wretch all in rags. My heart that sang merrily when I was young Swells up like a billow and bursts in despair; And the wreck of my hopes on sweet memory flung, And cries on the air, Are all that is left of the dream. |