The Lady of Albany's Lament for King Charles

Ell not reveal my true-love's name ;
Betimes 'twill swell the voice of fame —
But, O may Heaven, my grief to quell,
Restore the hero safe and well !

My hero brave, mo ghile, m'fhear,
My kindred love, mo ghile, m'fhear ;
What wringing woes my bosom knows,
Since crossed the sea mo ghile, m'fhear.

His glancing eyes I may compare
To diamond dews on rosebuds rare —
And love and valour brighten o'er
The features of my bosom's store ;
My hero brave," etc.

No cuckoo's note by fell or floor ;
No hunter's cry through hazel wood ;
Nor mist-wrapt valley yields me joy,
Since crossed the seas my royal boy.
My hero brave, etc.

Oppressed with grief, I hourly cry,
With bursting heart and tearful eye —
Since we did thee, fair youth, resign
For distant shores, what woes are mine?
My hero brave, etc.

The sun his golden glory shrouds
In mantle sad of sable clouds ;
The threatening sky of grief portends,
Since through far realms our lion wends !
My hero brave, etc.

That haughty, noble, youthful knight,
Of feature bland — of spirit light —
Strong-handed, swift, in war's wild throng
To chase to death the brave and strong !
My hero brave, etc.

His wreathed hair, in graceful flow
Of ringlet rare, falls full below
His manly waist, in yellow fold,
Like silken threads of curling gold !
My hero brave, etc.

Like Aongus Oge he bears command ;
Or Louis of the trenchant brand :
Or Daire's son, the great Conroy —
Brave Irish chiefs, my royal boy !
My hero brave, etc.

Or Conall, who strong ramparts won ;
Or Fergus, regal Rogia's son ;
Or Conor, Ulad's glorious king,
Whom harp-strings praise and poets sing —
My hero brave, etc.

Wake, wake, the wild harp's wildest sound,
Send sparkling flagons flowing round —
Fill high the wine-cup's tide of joy —
This health to thee, my royal boy !

My hero brave, mo ghile, m'fhear,
My kindred love, mo ghile, m'fhear,
What wringing woes my bosom knows,
Since crossed the seas mo ghile, m'fhear.