Classic Poem

At eve on Monday, on a round
I heard a sound that pleased me well,
The viol's note did smoothly float,
With a babel wrought above its swell;
I fell to ponder with the wonder,
My thoughts meandered absently,
Clear did I show that far I'd go,
As my own fancy prompted me.

I went along to join the throng,
Where there was song and drink and dance,
Maidens young and bachelors
All orderly in excellence.
The maidens scanned I, one by one
With slow gaze wandering far and nigh,
My heart was ta'en, as were my e'en,
Love had me slain immediately.

Like an angel she came front of me,
Young, maidenly, with grace most fine,
Slim profile sound, like cotton-down,
Or like a swan upon the brine:
Blue eyes tender 'neath brows slender
Kindly shined there with their gaze,
Mild mouth sincere, from all gloom clear,
Affection dear and no proud ways.

Like a sun's ray on a morn of May
She melted away the sight of my eyes,
As pacing the ground she glided round
To answer sound of melodies.
A courtly maid to learning bred
Of the proud kindred I revere,
Star of the queans, sun of all scenes,
The darling means of converse dear.

Rare is the case the like of thy face
To find Atrace in Europe o'er,
Such features warm, surpassing charm,
I've ne'er discerned myself before.
Fame grows to thee for love, beauty,
For coquetry and vocal zest,
All gifts most rare Diana bare,
Mor has her share as a bequest.

In crook-like curl, yellow cup-like whorl,
Ensigns unfurl of thy head of hair,
Bonnie mellow, ringed golden yellow,
In sportive billow, and order fair.
Thou'st nought to blame that one could name
From top of the same to heel of thy sole.
The Graces, maid, came thee to aid,
Thy pride displayed to crown the whole.

'Twere a cure from blight, from death respite
To the man who might be near thee;
Better than sleep nigh thee to keep,
A pleasure to reap talk cheery.
Ne'er was Love's Queen mid jewels' sheen
And peacock's preen about her,
Like Mor, sweet fay, who my heart made wae
With her charms, an' me aye without her.

Pure the blue blood whence the stream flowed,
Thou, without mood, twist or band;
Kin valiant and magnificent,
Embodiment for strife of brand:
They'd win the case on Dubh-Gall race,
And them would chase to their haunts afar;
Their pursuit rolled on Cataich cold,
And them controlled in every war.

The Head o' the Deer to thy heart is near,
That showed no fear when strifes begin;
Men far from flight wi' the flag in sight
Would go to fight against a king.
Keen in fettle in storm o' battle,
On their mettle, plaided, stubborn,
Going to the fray, with no dismay.
In slavery they'd ne'er return.

Heavy my sigh, ill-luck's the why,
No note of joy, and me forlorn,
And my thoughts move in the one groove,
She won my love with no return.
The gods ordained me doubly pained,
My pride amain was humbled lower,
Cupid's wand-stroke in a dream me broke
From whence I woke weakened and sore.

My farewell bear to the maiden fair,
Of lineage rare, the noblest bred,
Take my regard herself toward,
For I'm enthralled wi' her fair curled head.
Since no dream bird my spirit stirred,
Ah! there's no word to me of rest,
Though here I be, or o'er the sea,
My thoughts of thee are aye in quest.