English

For sport my Julia threw a Lace
Of silke and silver at my face:
Watchet the silke was; and did make
A shew, as if't'ad been a snake:
The suddenness did me affright;
But though it scar'd, it did not bite.

Fone sayes, those mighty whiskers he do's weare,
Are twigs of Birch, and willow, growing there:
If so, we'll think too, (when he do's condemne
Boyes to the lash) that he do's whip with them.

From Killybegs to Ardara is seven Irish miles,
'Tis there the blackbirds whistle and the mating cuckoos call,
Beyond the fields the green sea glints, above the heaven smiles
On all the white boreens that thread the glens of Donegal.

Along the roads what feet have passed, could they but tell the story,
Of ancient king and saint and bard, the roads have known them all;
Lough Dergh, Doon Well, Glen Columcille, the names are yet a glory,
'Tis great ghosts in the gloaming remember Donegal.

From house to house he goes,
A messenger small and slight;
And whether it rains or snows,
He sleeps outside in the night.

From holy flower to holy flower
Thou weavest thine unhallowed bower.
The harmless dewdrops, beaded thin,
Ripple along thy ropes of sin.
Thy house a grave, a gulf thy throne
Affright the fairies every one.
Thy winding sheets are grey and fell,
Imprisoning with nets of hell
The lovely births that winnow by,
Winged sisters of the rainbow sky:
Elf-darlings, fluffy, bee-bright things,
And owl-white moths with mealy wings,
And tiny flies, as gauzy thin
As e'er were shut electrum in.

From heavy dreams fair Helen rose,
And eyed the dawning red:
" Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!
O art thou false or dead?"

With gallant Frederick's princely power
He sought the bold Crusade,
But not a word from Judah's wars
Told Helen how he sped.

With Paynim and with Saracen
At length a truce was made,
And every knight returned to dry
The tears his love had shed.

Our gallant host was homeward bound
With many a song of joy;
Green waved the laurel in each plume,

From Halifax station a bully there came,
To take or be taken, call'd Ducres by name:
But 't was who but a Yankee he met on his way —
Says the Yankee to him, " Will you stop and take tea? "

Then Dacres steps up, thus addressing his crew: —
" Don't you see that d — d flag that is red, white, and blue;
Let us drum all to quarters, prepare for to fight,
For in taking that ship boys, it will make me a knight. "

Then up to each mast-head he straight sent a flag,
Which shows, on the ocean, a proud British brag;

From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand,
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.

What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Java's isle,
Though every prospect pleases
And only man is vile,
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown,
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.

Can we, whose sould are lighted

From Fortunes frownes and change remou'd,
wend silly Flocks in blessed feeding:
None of Damon more belou'd,
feede gentle Lambs while I sit reading

Carelesse vvorldlings, outrage quelleth
all the pride and pompe of Cittie:
But true peace with Sheepheards dwelleth,
(Sheepheards who delight in pittie.)
Whether grace of heauen betideth,
on our humble minds such pleasure:
Perfect peace with Swaines abideth,
loue and faith is Sheepheards treasure
On the lower Plaines the thunder

From far she's come, and very old,
And very soiled with wandering.
The dust of seasons she has brought
Unbidden to this field of Spring.

She's halted at the log-barred gate.
The May-day waits, a tangled spill
Of light that weaves and moves along
The daisied margin of the hill,

Where Nature bares her bridal heart,
And on her snowy soul the sun
Languors desirously and dull,
An amorous pale vermilion.

She's halted, propped her rigid arms,
With dead big eyes she drinks the west;