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No marching now with martial fire-
Alas, the tears that make me blind-
Far other was my heart's desire
A-hunting stag and hind.

Long this night the clouds delay-
No striving now as champions strove,
No run of hounds with mellow bay,
Nor leap in lakes we love.

No hero now where heroes hurled
Long this night the clouds delay-
No man like me in all the world,
Alone with grief, and gray.

Long this night the clouds delay-
I raise their grave-carn, stone on stone,
For Fionn and Fianna passed away-
I, Ossian, left alone.

DEUS MEUS.

From the Irish of Maelisu.

Deus meus adiuva me,
Give me thy love, O Christ, I pray,
Give me thy love, O Christ, I pray,
Deus meus adiuva me.

In meum cor ut sanum sit,2
Pour, loving King, Thy love in it,
Pour, loving King, Thy love in it,
In meum cor ut sanum sit.

Domine, da ut peto a te,3
O, pure bright sun, give, give to-day,
O, pure bright sun, give, give to-day,
Domine, da ut peto a te.

Hanc spero rem et quæro quam,
Thy love to have where'er I am,
Thy love to have where'er I am,

Hanc spero rem et quæro quam. 1 My God, assist thou me. 2 Into my heart that it sound may be. 8 Lord, grant thou what I ask of thee. * This thing I hope and seek of thee.

Tuum amorem sicut uis,
Give to me swiftly, strongly, this,
Give to me swiftly, strongly, this,
Tuum amorem sicut uis.

Quæro, postulo, peto a te 2
That I in heaven, dear Christ, may stay,
That I in heaven, dear Christ, may stay,
Quæro, postulo, peto a te.

Domine, Domine, eraudi me.3
Fill my soul, Lord, with Thy love's ray,
Fill my soul, Lord, with Thy love's ray,
Domine, Domine, exaudi me,

Deus meus adiuva me,
Deus meus adiuva me.

JESUKIN.5

From the Irish of “St. Ita ” (480—570).

Jesukin
Lives my little cell within;
What were wealth of cleric high-
All is lie but Jesukin.

Nursling nurtured, as 't is right-
Harbors here no servile spright-
Jesu of the skies, who art
Next my heart thro' every night!

Jesukin, my good for aye,
Calling and will not have nay,
King of all things, ever true,

He shall rue who will away. 1 Thy love as Thou mayst will. ? I seek, I claim, and I ask of Thee. 3 Lord, Lord, hearken to me. * This poem, written on the margin of 'Lebor Breac,' is quoted by Dr. Whitley Stokes, ‘Calendar of Engus,' clxxxv. Alliteration is observed in the Latin lines. In the first verse it seems obtained by the reading “ad-iuva," and in the fifth " amorem alliterates with “uis” (vis).

6 Whitley Stokes, LL.D. . On the Calendar of Engus,' • Royal Irish Academy's Transactions,' 1880. Note, p. xxxv.

Jesukin, loving diminutive of Isa-in modern Irish Iosa—applied to the Child Jesus,

Jesu, more than angels aid,
Fosterling not formed to fade,
Nursed by me in desert wild,
Jesu, child of Judah's Maid.

Sons of Kings and kingly kin,
To my land may enter in;
Guest of none I hope to be,
Save of Thee, my Jesukin!

Unto heaven's High King confest
Sing a chorus, maidens blest!
He is o'er us, though within
Jesukin is on my breast!

A FAR FAREWELL.

'Tis mad to leap the lofty wall and strain a gallant steed, When close beside is the flow'ry fence to vault across at need. O bitter the bright red berries that high on the Rowan growBut fresh and sweet the fruits we meet on the fragrant plant

below.

Farewell, farewell a thousand times, to the green town of the

trees, Farewell to every homestead there from o'er the surging seas ;Ah, many a wild and watery way, and many a ridge of foam Keep far apart my lonely heart and the maid I love at home.

I move ʼmid men, but always, their voices faint away,
And my mind awakes and I hear again the words her dear lips

say; Her sparkling glance, her glowing cheek, her lovely form I

seeAs flowers that grow, like flakes of snow, on the black and leaf

less tree.

If you go from me, Vuirneen, safe may you depart!
Within my bosom I feel it, you ’ve killed my very heart-
No arm can swim, no boat can row, nor bark can mariner guide
O’er the waves of that woeful ocean that our two lives divide.

ORO, O DARLING FAIR.

SPINNERS' SONG.

Oro, O darling fair! and ioro 0 Fairness fair!
Who's the young maid to be wed upon Shrovetide there?
Oro, 0 darling fair! O lamb, and O love!”

Oro, 0 darling fair! and ioro O Fairness fair! Maid to be married I hear is sweet Annie Clare, Oro, O darling fair! O lamb, and I love!”

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Oro, O darling fair! and joro O Fairness fair! Who's the glad youth upon whom fell this happy air? Oro, 0 darling fair! O lamb, and O love!”

“ Oro, O darling fair! and ioro O Fairness fair! Florence O’Driscoll they say has the luck so rare, Oro, O darling fair! O lamb, and O love!"

“Oro, O darling fair! and ioro O Fairness fair! What is the outfit they give to the wedded pair? Oro, O darling fair! O lamb, and I love!"

“Oro, O darling fair! and ioro O Fairness fair!
Feathers the finest that ever had bird in air,
Linen the whitest that ever the spindle bare,
Quilting of silk that is softest beyond compare,
Candlesticks golden, graceful, and carved with care,
Red and white pieces in pocket to spend and spare,
Plenty on board with gay guests to gladly share,
Victory I wish them, that joy may be ever there!
Oro, o darling fair! O lamb, and O love!”

GENTLE BRIDEEN.

From the Irish of O'Carolan.

O gentle fair maiden, thou hast left me in sadness;

My bosom is pierced with Love 's arrow so keen; For thy mien it is graceful, thy glances are gladness,

And thousands thy lovers, O gentle Brideen!

The gray mist of morning in autumn was fleeting,

When I met the bright darling down in the boreen; Her words were unkind, but I soon won a greeting;

Sweet kisses I stole from the lips of Brideen!

Oh! fair is the sun in the dawning all tender,

And beauteous the roses beneath it are seen,
Thy cheek is the red rose! thy brow the sun-splendor!

And, cluster of ringlets! my dawn is Brideen!

Then shine, O bright Sun, on thy constant, true lover;

Then shine once again in the leafy boreen, And the clouds shall depart that around my heart hover,

And we'll walk amid gladness, my gentle Brideen!

THINGS DELIGHTFUL.1

From the Irish of Oisin.

Sweet 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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