Lovely Loch Lein

Though often I'd rove, through grove, and valley, and mount,
From Shannon to Rath, each path, by fort and by fount,
I saw not elsewhere so fair and so beauteous a scene
As the little white town, the crown of the lovely Loch Lein!

How sweet in its grace, that place with fruit ever fair,
The trees white with flowers and showers of scent on the air:
Water and boats, where notes of melody pour
From Ross Castle tower, the bower of dames we adore!

What damosels fair! 'tis there is gaiety found,
Red wine on the board, a hoard of dainties around;
High chase of the deer, the cheer, and winding of horn,
With thrush's sweet song among the branches at morn!

I've wandered brown Beare, from there to Erne in the North —
I've watched, in the west, the best of its beauty and worth —
But afar or anear, the peer I never have seen
Of the fairy-fond place, whose grace is the lovely Loch Lein!