Sighile Ni Gadhra

ALONE as I wandered in sad meditation,
And pondered my sorrows and soul's desolation,
A beautiful vision, a maiden, drew near me,
An angel she seemed sent from Heaven to cheer me.
;Let none dare to tell me I acted amiss
Because on her lips I imprinted a kiss —
O! that was a moment of exquisite bliss!
For sweetness, for grace, and for brightness of feature,
Earth holds not the match of this loveliest creature!

Her eyes, like twin stars, shone and sparkled with lustre;
Her tresses hung waving in many a cluster,
And swept the long grass all around and beneath her;
She moved like a being who trod upon ether,
And seemed to disdain the dominions of space —
Such beauty and majesty, glory and grace,
So faultless a form, and so dazzling a face,
And ringlets so shining, so many and golden,
"Were never beheld since the storied years olden.

Alas, that this damsel, so noble and queenly,'
Who spake, and who looked, and who moved so serenely,
Should languish in woe, that her throne should have crumbled;
Her haughty oppressors abiding tmhumbled.
O! woe that she cannot with horsemen and swords,
With fleets and with armies, with chieftains and lords,
Chase forth from the isle the vile Sassenach hordes,
Who too long in their hatred have trodden us under,
And wasted green Eire with slaughter and plunder!

She hath studied God's Gospels, and Truth's divine pages —
The tales of the Druids, and lays of old sages;
She hath quaffed the pure wave of the fountain Pierian,
And is versed in the wars of the Trojan and Tyrian;
So gentle, so modest, so artless and mild,
The wisest of women, yet meek as a child;
She pours forth her spirit in speech undefiled;
But her bosom is pierced, and her soul hath been shaken,
To see herself left so forlorn and forsaken!

"O maiden!" so spake I, " thou best and divinest,
Thou, who as a sun in thy loveliness shinest,
Who art thou, and whence? — and what land dost thou dwell in?

Say, art thou fair Deirdre, or canst thou be Helen?"
And thus she made answer — " What! dost thou not see
The nurse of the Chieftains of Eire in me —
The heroes of Banba, the valiant and free?
I was great in my time, ere the Gall became stronger
Than the Gael, and my sceptre passed o'er to the Wronger!"

Thereafter she told me, with bitter lamenting,
A story of sorrow beyond all inventing —
Her name was Fair Eire, the Mother of true hearts,
The daughter of Conn, and the spouse of the Stewarts.
She had suffered all woes, had been tortured and flayed,
Had been trodden and spoiled, been deceived and betrayed;
But her champion, she hoped, would soon come to her aid,
And the insolent Tyrant who now was her master
Would then be overwhelmed by defeat and disaster!

O, fear not, fair mourner! — thy lord and thy lover,
Prince Charles, with his armies, will cross the seas over.

Once more, lo! the Spirit of Liberty rallies
Aloft on thy mountains, and calls from thy valleys.

Thy children will rise and will take, one and all,
Eevenge on the murderous tribes of the Gall,
And to thee shall return each renowned castle hall;
And again thou shalt revel in plenty and treasure,
And the wealth of the land shall be thine without measure.