Table of Contents   Previous Chapter   Next Chapter

JEREMIAH JOSEPH CALLANAN

1795-1839

646                                      The Outlaw of Loch Lene

FROM THE IRISH

O MANY a day have I made good ale in the glen,
That came not of stream or malt, like the brewing of
    men:
My bed was the ground; my roof, the green-wood above;
And the wealth that I sought, one far kind glance from my Love.

Alas! on that night when the horses I drove from the field,
That I was not near from terror my angel to shield!
She stretchd forth her arms; her mantle she flung to the wind,
And swam oer Loch Lene, her outlawd lover to find.

O would that a freezing sleet-wingd tempest did sweep,
And I and my love were alone, far off on the deep;
Id ask not a ship, or a bark, or a pinnace, to save
With her hand round my waist, Id fear not the wind or the
       wave.

Tis down by the lake where the wild tree fringes its sides,
The maid of my heart, my fair one of Heaven resides:
I think, as at eve she wanders its mazes among,
The birds go to sleep by the sweet wild twist of her song.

 

Table of Contents   Previous Chapter   Next Chapter