The Isle of Delight

There's an island far away,
Round it swift sea-horses play;
Four pillars bear it gracious,
O'er surge of ocean spacious.

Joy of eyes, that plain where are
Hosts at gay games near and far;
Barks there with chariots vying
Race oft, for triumph trying.

Whitest bronze, the pillars fair
Gleam through happy ages there,
Lovely land o'er whose bosom
Soft falls the sweetest blossom.

Tall stands the Tree of Flowers
Where birds call in its bowers,
Call to Hours the leaves among
At due times, with choral song.

O'er the plains, sweet-voiced, tender,
Beam many hues in splendour,
Joys, with music, gently crowd
The south plain of Silver Cloud.

There deceit nor wailing is
In that fruitful land of bliss,
Naught rude or rugged showeth
But soft, sweet music floweth.

Grief or darkness none, nor death,
Ill, nor any harm it hath.
This tells of Emain's glory;
Where else such wondrous story?

'Tis the beauty of things bright,
Loveliness is in its sight,
Cheer it gives hearts all cheerless,
Its halo-haze is peerless.

In the Valley Bountiful
Rubies show'r, and gems we cull;
Billows beat the shore, and rain
Crystal hairs from ocean's mane.

Wealth, health, and varied treasures
Dower this mild Land of Pleasures, .
Mellow tunes ever flowing,
Lucent wines always glowing.

In Moy Rem, gold chariots ride,
Rising sunward with the tide;
Moy Mon's cars are silver white,
And bronze chariots beaming bright.

Gold-hued steeds fly o'er the Strand,
Crimson steeds along the land;
Fleecy steeds are bounding too,
Azure as the heavens blue.

There shall come, with dawn's whiteness,
One fair man, shedding brightness;
He will ride the wave-beat flood,
Stirring ocean till 'tis blood.

There shall come a host with oars,
Rowing to these happy shores,
To the Splendid Rock z they'll row
Whence a hundred sweet strains flow.

To the hosts 'twill ever sing,
Making all the ages ring:
Rising with a myriad choirs, —
Death shall never dim their fires!

Happiness shall hereafter
Hither come, girt with laughter,

Health will come, ne'er to sever,
Joy comes that lasts for ever.

What a day of sunlit hours,
Silver o'er the land it showers!
That Rock stands the shore upon,
Taking radiance from the Sun.

In Moy Mon, the hosts that came
Urge the great and noble game;
O'er its varied beauty they
Meet nor death nor slow decay.

They hear music in the night,
Through this Isle of all Delight —
Flash of beauty's diadem —
With the white cloud over them.

There shall be a wondrous birth
In no lofty place of earth,
Hence a Virgin's Son shall take
Rule o'er myriads for their sake.

Rule that ends not, nor began;
He has made the world and man,
His the earth and the great sea;
Woe, who His unfriend shall be.

He made heaven high and bright,
(Happy he whose heart is white!)
He will cleanse with waters clean,
And make whole who sick hath been.