Maire ni Milleoin

"Will you come where golden gorse I mow,
Mo Mauria ni Milleoin?"
"To bind for you I'll gladly go,
My Share of Life, my own!"

"To chapel, too, I would repair
Though not to save my soul through prayer —
But just to gaze with rapture where
You stand, Mo buachil baun!"

"Will you rove the garden glades with me?
O Flower of Maids, alone?"
"What wondrous scenes therein to see,
My Share of Life, my own?"

"The apples from green boughs to strike,
To watch the trout leap from the lake,
And caress a pretty colleen, like
Mo Mauria ni Milleoin!"

"Will you seek with me the dim church aisle,
O Mauria ni Milleoin?"
"What pleasant things to see the while
My Share of Life, my own?"

"We'd list the chanting voice and pray'r
Of foreign pastor preaching there,
And we'd finish the marriage with my fair
White Flower of Maids alone!"

She sought the dim church aisle with me,
My Share of Life, so fair!
She sought the dim church aisle with me, —
O grief! O burning care!

I plunged my glitt'ring, keen-edged blade
In the bosom of that loving maid,
Till gushed her heart's blood, warm and red,
Upon the cold ground there!

"Alas, what deed is this you do,
My Share of Life,-mo stor J
What woeful deed is this you do —
O youth whom I adore!

Ah, spare your child and me, my love,
And the seven lands of Earth I'll rove,
Ere cause of care to you I prove
For ever — ever more!"

I bore her to the mountain peak,
The Flower of Maids, so lone!
I bore her to the mountain bleak,
My thousand loves! mo vron!

I cast my coat around here there
And 'mid the murky mists of air,
I fled, with bleeding feet and bare,
From Mauria ni Milleoin!