Pearl of the White Breast

There's a colleen fair as May,
For a year and for a day
I've sought by every way, — Her heart to gain.
There's no art of tongue or eye,
Fond youths with maidens try,
But I've tried with ceaseless sigh, — Yet tried in vain
If to France or far-off Spain,
She'd cross the watery main,
To see her face again, — The sea I'd brave.
And if 'tis Heaven's decree,
That mine she may not be,
May the Son of Mary me — In mercy save !

O thou blooming milk-white dove,
To whom I've given true love,
Do not ever thus reprove — My constancy.
There are maidens would be mine,
With wealth in hand and kine,
If my heart would but incline — To turn from thee.
But a kiss, with welcome bland,
And a touch of thy dear hand,
Are all that I demand, — Wouldst thou not spurn;
For if not mine, dear girl,
O Snowy-breasted Pearl !
May I never from the Fair — With life return !