My closest and dearest!From the first day I saw youFrom the top of the market-house,My eyes gave heed to you,My heart gave affection to you,I fled from my friends with you,Far from my home with you,No lasting sorrow this to me.
My closest and dearest!From the first day I saw youFrom the top of the market-house,My eyes gave heed to you,My heart gave affection to you,I fled from my friends with you,Far from my home with you,No lasting sorrow this to me.
My closest and dearest!From the first day I saw youFrom the top of the market-house,My eyes gave heed to you,My heart gave affection to you,I fled from my friends with you,Far from my home with you,No lasting sorrow this to me.
M
II
Thou didst bring me to fair chambers,Rooms you had adorned for me;Ovens were reddened for me,Fresh trout were caught for me,Roast flesh was carved for meFrom beef that was felled for me;On beds of down I layTill the coming of the milking-time,Or so long as was pleasing to me.
Thou didst bring me to fair chambers,Rooms you had adorned for me;Ovens were reddened for me,Fresh trout were caught for me,Roast flesh was carved for meFrom beef that was felled for me;On beds of down I layTill the coming of the milking-time,Or so long as was pleasing to me.
Thou didst bring me to fair chambers,Rooms you had adorned for me;Ovens were reddened for me,Fresh trout were caught for me,Roast flesh was carved for meFrom beef that was felled for me;On beds of down I layTill the coming of the milking-time,Or so long as was pleasing to me.
III
Rider of the white palm!With the silver-hilted sword!Well your beaver hat became youWith its band of graceful gold;Your suit of solid homespun yarnWrapped close around your form;Slender shoes of foreign fashion,And a pin of brightest silverFastened in your shirt.As you rode in stately wiseOn your slender steed, white-faced,After coming over seas,Even the Saxons bowed before youBowed down to the very ground;Not because they loved you wellBut from deadly hate;For it was by them you fell,Darling of my soul.
Rider of the white palm!With the silver-hilted sword!Well your beaver hat became youWith its band of graceful gold;Your suit of solid homespun yarnWrapped close around your form;Slender shoes of foreign fashion,And a pin of brightest silverFastened in your shirt.As you rode in stately wiseOn your slender steed, white-faced,After coming over seas,Even the Saxons bowed before youBowed down to the very ground;Not because they loved you wellBut from deadly hate;For it was by them you fell,Darling of my soul.
Rider of the white palm!With the silver-hilted sword!Well your beaver hat became youWith its band of graceful gold;Your suit of solid homespun yarnWrapped close around your form;Slender shoes of foreign fashion,And a pin of brightest silverFastened in your shirt.As you rode in stately wiseOn your slender steed, white-faced,After coming over seas,Even the Saxons bowed before youBowed down to the very ground;Not because they loved you wellBut from deadly hate;For it was by them you fell,Darling of my soul.
IV
My friend and my little calf!Offspring of the Lords of Antrim,And the chiefs of Immokely!Never had I thought you dead,Until there came to me your mareHer bridle dragged beside her to the ground;Upon her brow your heart-blood splashed,Even to the carven saddle flowing downWhere you were wont to sit or stand.I did not stay to cleanse it—I gave a quick leap with my handsUpon the wooden stretcher of the bed;A second leap was to the gate,And the third leap upon thy mare.
My friend and my little calf!Offspring of the Lords of Antrim,And the chiefs of Immokely!Never had I thought you dead,Until there came to me your mareHer bridle dragged beside her to the ground;Upon her brow your heart-blood splashed,Even to the carven saddle flowing downWhere you were wont to sit or stand.I did not stay to cleanse it—I gave a quick leap with my handsUpon the wooden stretcher of the bed;A second leap was to the gate,And the third leap upon thy mare.
My friend and my little calf!Offspring of the Lords of Antrim,And the chiefs of Immokely!Never had I thought you dead,Until there came to me your mareHer bridle dragged beside her to the ground;Upon her brow your heart-blood splashed,Even to the carven saddle flowing downWhere you were wont to sit or stand.I did not stay to cleanse it—I gave a quick leap with my handsUpon the wooden stretcher of the bed;A second leap was to the gate,And the third leap upon thy mare.
V
In haste I clapped my hands together,I followed on your tracksAs well as I could,Till I found you laid before me deadAt the foot of a lowly bush of furze;Without pope, without bishop,Without cleric or priestTo read a psalm for thee;But only an old bent wasted croneWho flung over thee the corner of her cloak.
In haste I clapped my hands together,I followed on your tracksAs well as I could,Till I found you laid before me deadAt the foot of a lowly bush of furze;Without pope, without bishop,Without cleric or priestTo read a psalm for thee;But only an old bent wasted croneWho flung over thee the corner of her cloak.
In haste I clapped my hands together,I followed on your tracksAs well as I could,Till I found you laid before me deadAt the foot of a lowly bush of furze;Without pope, without bishop,Without cleric or priestTo read a psalm for thee;But only an old bent wasted croneWho flung over thee the corner of her cloak.
VI
My dear and beloved one!When it will come to me to reach our home,Little Conor, of our love,And Fiac, his toddling baby-brother,Will be asking of me quicklyWhere I left their dearest father?I shall answer them with sorrowThat I left him in Kill Martyr;They will call upon their father;He will not be there to answer.
My dear and beloved one!When it will come to me to reach our home,Little Conor, of our love,And Fiac, his toddling baby-brother,Will be asking of me quicklyWhere I left their dearest father?I shall answer them with sorrowThat I left him in Kill Martyr;They will call upon their father;He will not be there to answer.
My dear and beloved one!When it will come to me to reach our home,Little Conor, of our love,And Fiac, his toddling baby-brother,Will be asking of me quicklyWhere I left their dearest father?I shall answer them with sorrowThat I left him in Kill Martyr;They will call upon their father;He will not be there to answer.
VII
My love and my chosen one!When you were going forward from the gate,You turned quickly back again!You kissed your two children,You threw a kiss to me.You said, "Eileen, arise now, be stirring,And set your house in order,Be swiftly moving.I am leaving our home,It is likely that I may not come again."I took it only for a jestYou used often to be jesting thus before.
My love and my chosen one!When you were going forward from the gate,You turned quickly back again!You kissed your two children,You threw a kiss to me.You said, "Eileen, arise now, be stirring,And set your house in order,Be swiftly moving.I am leaving our home,It is likely that I may not come again."I took it only for a jestYou used often to be jesting thus before.
My love and my chosen one!When you were going forward from the gate,You turned quickly back again!You kissed your two children,You threw a kiss to me.You said, "Eileen, arise now, be stirring,And set your house in order,Be swiftly moving.I am leaving our home,It is likely that I may not come again."I took it only for a jestYou used often to be jesting thus before.
VIII
My friend and my heart's love!Arise up, my Art,Leap on thy steed,Arise out to MacroomAnd to Inchegeela after that;A bottle of wine in thy grasp,As was ever in the time of thy ancestors.Arise up, my Art,Rider of the shining sword;Put on your garments,Your fair noble clothes;Don your black beaver,Draw on your gloves;See, here hangs your whip,Your good mare waits without;Strike eastward on the narrow road,For the bushes will bare themselves before you,For the streams will narrow on your path,For men and women will bow themselves before youIf their own good manners are upon them yet,But I am much a-feared they are not now.
My friend and my heart's love!Arise up, my Art,Leap on thy steed,Arise out to MacroomAnd to Inchegeela after that;A bottle of wine in thy grasp,As was ever in the time of thy ancestors.Arise up, my Art,Rider of the shining sword;Put on your garments,Your fair noble clothes;Don your black beaver,Draw on your gloves;See, here hangs your whip,Your good mare waits without;Strike eastward on the narrow road,For the bushes will bare themselves before you,For the streams will narrow on your path,For men and women will bow themselves before youIf their own good manners are upon them yet,But I am much a-feared they are not now.
My friend and my heart's love!Arise up, my Art,Leap on thy steed,Arise out to MacroomAnd to Inchegeela after that;A bottle of wine in thy grasp,As was ever in the time of thy ancestors.Arise up, my Art,Rider of the shining sword;Put on your garments,Your fair noble clothes;Don your black beaver,Draw on your gloves;See, here hangs your whip,Your good mare waits without;Strike eastward on the narrow road,For the bushes will bare themselves before you,For the streams will narrow on your path,For men and women will bow themselves before youIf their own good manners are upon them yet,But I am much a-feared they are not now.
IX
Destruction to you and woe,O Morris, hideous the treacheryThat took from me the man of the house,The father of my babes;Two of them running about the house,The third beneath my breast,It is likely that I shall not give it birth.
Destruction to you and woe,O Morris, hideous the treacheryThat took from me the man of the house,The father of my babes;Two of them running about the house,The third beneath my breast,It is likely that I shall not give it birth.
Destruction to you and woe,O Morris, hideous the treacheryThat took from me the man of the house,The father of my babes;Two of them running about the house,The third beneath my breast,It is likely that I shall not give it birth.
X
My long wound, my bitter sorrow,That I was not beside theeWhen the shot was fired;That I might have got it in my soft bodyOr in the skirt of my gown;Till I would give you freedom to escape,O Rider of the grey eye,Because it is you would best have followed after them.
My long wound, my bitter sorrow,That I was not beside theeWhen the shot was fired;That I might have got it in my soft bodyOr in the skirt of my gown;Till I would give you freedom to escape,O Rider of the grey eye,Because it is you would best have followed after them.
My long wound, my bitter sorrow,That I was not beside theeWhen the shot was fired;That I might have got it in my soft bodyOr in the skirt of my gown;Till I would give you freedom to escape,O Rider of the grey eye,Because it is you would best have followed after them.
XI
My dear and my heart's love!Terrible to me the way I see thee,To be putting our hero,Our rider so true of heart,In a little cap in a coffin!Thou who used to be fishing along the streams,Thou who didst drink within wide hallsAmong the gentle women white of breast;It is my thousand afflictionsThat I have lost your companionship!My love and my darling,Could my shouts but reach theeWest in mighty Derrynane,And in Carhen of the yellow apples after that;Many a light-hearted young horseman,And woman with white spotless kerchiefWould swiftly be with us here,To wail above thy headArt O'Leary of the joyous laugh!O women of the soft wet eyes,Stay now your weeping,Till Art O'Leary drinks his drinkBefore his going back to school;Not to learn reading or music does he go there now,But to carry clay and stones.
My dear and my heart's love!Terrible to me the way I see thee,To be putting our hero,Our rider so true of heart,In a little cap in a coffin!Thou who used to be fishing along the streams,Thou who didst drink within wide hallsAmong the gentle women white of breast;It is my thousand afflictionsThat I have lost your companionship!My love and my darling,Could my shouts but reach theeWest in mighty Derrynane,And in Carhen of the yellow apples after that;Many a light-hearted young horseman,And woman with white spotless kerchiefWould swiftly be with us here,To wail above thy headArt O'Leary of the joyous laugh!O women of the soft wet eyes,Stay now your weeping,Till Art O'Leary drinks his drinkBefore his going back to school;Not to learn reading or music does he go there now,But to carry clay and stones.
My dear and my heart's love!Terrible to me the way I see thee,To be putting our hero,Our rider so true of heart,In a little cap in a coffin!Thou who used to be fishing along the streams,Thou who didst drink within wide hallsAmong the gentle women white of breast;It is my thousand afflictionsThat I have lost your companionship!My love and my darling,Could my shouts but reach theeWest in mighty Derrynane,And in Carhen of the yellow apples after that;Many a light-hearted young horseman,And woman with white spotless kerchiefWould swiftly be with us here,To wail above thy headArt O'Leary of the joyous laugh!O women of the soft wet eyes,Stay now your weeping,Till Art O'Leary drinks his drinkBefore his going back to school;Not to learn reading or music does he go there now,But to carry clay and stones.
XII
My love and my secret thou.Thy corn-stacks are piled,And thy golden kine are milking,But it is upon my own heart is the grief!There is no healing in the Province of Munster,Nor in the Island smithy of the Fians,Till Art O'Leary will come back to me;But all as if it were a lock upon a trunkAnd the key of it gone straying;Or till rust will come upon the screw.
My love and my secret thou.Thy corn-stacks are piled,And thy golden kine are milking,But it is upon my own heart is the grief!There is no healing in the Province of Munster,Nor in the Island smithy of the Fians,Till Art O'Leary will come back to me;But all as if it were a lock upon a trunkAnd the key of it gone straying;Or till rust will come upon the screw.
My love and my secret thou.Thy corn-stacks are piled,And thy golden kine are milking,But it is upon my own heart is the grief!There is no healing in the Province of Munster,Nor in the Island smithy of the Fians,Till Art O'Leary will come back to me;But all as if it were a lock upon a trunkAnd the key of it gone straying;Or till rust will come upon the screw.
XIII
My friend and my best one!Art O'Leary, son of Conor,Son of Cadach, son of Lewis,Eastward from wet wooded glens,Westward from the slender hillWhere the rowan-berries grow,And the yellow nuts are ripe upon the branches;Apples trailing, as it was in my day.Little wonder to myselfIf fires were lighted in O'Leary's country,And at the mouth of Ballingeary,Or at holy Gougane Barra of the cells,After the rider of the smooth grip,After the huntsman unweariedWhen, heavy breathing with the chase,Even thy lithe deerhounds lagged behind.O horseman of the enticing eyes,What happened thee last night?For I myself thoughtThat the whole world could not kill youWhen I bought for you that shirt of mail.
My friend and my best one!Art O'Leary, son of Conor,Son of Cadach, son of Lewis,Eastward from wet wooded glens,Westward from the slender hillWhere the rowan-berries grow,And the yellow nuts are ripe upon the branches;Apples trailing, as it was in my day.Little wonder to myselfIf fires were lighted in O'Leary's country,And at the mouth of Ballingeary,Or at holy Gougane Barra of the cells,After the rider of the smooth grip,After the huntsman unweariedWhen, heavy breathing with the chase,Even thy lithe deerhounds lagged behind.O horseman of the enticing eyes,What happened thee last night?For I myself thoughtThat the whole world could not kill youWhen I bought for you that shirt of mail.
My friend and my best one!Art O'Leary, son of Conor,Son of Cadach, son of Lewis,Eastward from wet wooded glens,Westward from the slender hillWhere the rowan-berries grow,And the yellow nuts are ripe upon the branches;Apples trailing, as it was in my day.Little wonder to myselfIf fires were lighted in O'Leary's country,And at the mouth of Ballingeary,Or at holy Gougane Barra of the cells,After the rider of the smooth grip,After the huntsman unweariedWhen, heavy breathing with the chase,Even thy lithe deerhounds lagged behind.O horseman of the enticing eyes,What happened thee last night?For I myself thoughtThat the whole world could not kill youWhen I bought for you that shirt of mail.
XIV
My friend and my darling!A cloudy vision through the darknessCame to me last night,At Cork latelyAnd I alone upon my bed!I saw the wood glen withered,I saw our lime-washed court fallen;No sound of speech came from thy hunting-dogsNor sound of singing from the birdsWhen you were found fallenOn the side of the hill without;When you were found in the clay,Art O'Leary;With your drop of blood oozing outThrough the breast of your shirt.
My friend and my darling!A cloudy vision through the darknessCame to me last night,At Cork latelyAnd I alone upon my bed!I saw the wood glen withered,I saw our lime-washed court fallen;No sound of speech came from thy hunting-dogsNor sound of singing from the birdsWhen you were found fallenOn the side of the hill without;When you were found in the clay,Art O'Leary;With your drop of blood oozing outThrough the breast of your shirt.
My friend and my darling!A cloudy vision through the darknessCame to me last night,At Cork latelyAnd I alone upon my bed!I saw the wood glen withered,I saw our lime-washed court fallen;No sound of speech came from thy hunting-dogsNor sound of singing from the birdsWhen you were found fallenOn the side of the hill without;When you were found in the clay,Art O'Leary;With your drop of blood oozing outThrough the breast of your shirt.
XV
It is known to Jesus Christ,I will put no cap upon my head,Nor body-linen on my side,Nor shoes upon my feet,Nor gear throughout the house;Even on the brown mare will be no bridle,But I shall spend all in taking the law.I will go across the seasTo speak with the king;But if they will give no heed to me,It is I that will come back againTo seek the villain of the black bloodWho cut off my treasure from me.O Morrison, who killed my hero,Was there not one man in ErinWould put a bullet through you?
It is known to Jesus Christ,I will put no cap upon my head,Nor body-linen on my side,Nor shoes upon my feet,Nor gear throughout the house;Even on the brown mare will be no bridle,But I shall spend all in taking the law.I will go across the seasTo speak with the king;But if they will give no heed to me,It is I that will come back againTo seek the villain of the black bloodWho cut off my treasure from me.O Morrison, who killed my hero,Was there not one man in ErinWould put a bullet through you?
It is known to Jesus Christ,I will put no cap upon my head,Nor body-linen on my side,Nor shoes upon my feet,Nor gear throughout the house;Even on the brown mare will be no bridle,But I shall spend all in taking the law.I will go across the seasTo speak with the king;But if they will give no heed to me,It is I that will come back againTo seek the villain of the black bloodWho cut off my treasure from me.O Morrison, who killed my hero,Was there not one man in ErinWould put a bullet through you?
XVI
The affection of this heart to you,O white women of the mill,For the edged poetry that you have shedOver the horseman of the brown mare.It is I who am the lonely oneIn Inse Carriganane.
The affection of this heart to you,O white women of the mill,For the edged poetry that you have shedOver the horseman of the brown mare.It is I who am the lonely oneIn Inse Carriganane.
The affection of this heart to you,O white women of the mill,For the edged poetry that you have shedOver the horseman of the brown mare.It is I who am the lonely oneIn Inse Carriganane.
PrologueBrian Merriman, died in Limerick, 1808.
Full often I strolled by the brink of the river,On the greensward soaked by the heavy dew,Skirting the woods in the bays of the mountains,No care in my heart, while the day was new.My soul would light up when I saw Loch GréineLie blue on the breast of the landscape green,The heaven's expanse o'er the ring of the mountains,Peak beckoning to peak o'er the ridges between.Ah, well might the weakling, the sport of misfortune,Spent of his vigour, embittered with pain,His birthright wasted, his pockets empty,Gaze long on that scene and take heart again.On its mistless bosom the wild duck settled,Two followed by two rode the stately swan,In wanton gladness the perch leaped upward,Ruddy their scales when the bright sun shone!Peaceful the scene, as the azure watersIn ripples swept circling in to the shore;Strange is its change in the winter quarter,Its thunderous crash, its hollow roar.Bright birds in the trees make a melody mirthful,The doe bounds down, the hunt flashes by,I hear the shrill horns, they are close upon me!Brave Reynard in front, and the hounds in full cry!
Full often I strolled by the brink of the river,On the greensward soaked by the heavy dew,Skirting the woods in the bays of the mountains,No care in my heart, while the day was new.My soul would light up when I saw Loch GréineLie blue on the breast of the landscape green,The heaven's expanse o'er the ring of the mountains,Peak beckoning to peak o'er the ridges between.Ah, well might the weakling, the sport of misfortune,Spent of his vigour, embittered with pain,His birthright wasted, his pockets empty,Gaze long on that scene and take heart again.On its mistless bosom the wild duck settled,Two followed by two rode the stately swan,In wanton gladness the perch leaped upward,Ruddy their scales when the bright sun shone!Peaceful the scene, as the azure watersIn ripples swept circling in to the shore;Strange is its change in the winter quarter,Its thunderous crash, its hollow roar.Bright birds in the trees make a melody mirthful,The doe bounds down, the hunt flashes by,I hear the shrill horns, they are close upon me!Brave Reynard in front, and the hounds in full cry!
Full often I strolled by the brink of the river,On the greensward soaked by the heavy dew,Skirting the woods in the bays of the mountains,No care in my heart, while the day was new.
My soul would light up when I saw Loch GréineLie blue on the breast of the landscape green,The heaven's expanse o'er the ring of the mountains,Peak beckoning to peak o'er the ridges between.
Ah, well might the weakling, the sport of misfortune,Spent of his vigour, embittered with pain,His birthright wasted, his pockets empty,Gaze long on that scene and take heart again.
On its mistless bosom the wild duck settled,Two followed by two rode the stately swan,In wanton gladness the perch leaped upward,Ruddy their scales when the bright sun shone!
Peaceful the scene, as the azure watersIn ripples swept circling in to the shore;Strange is its change in the winter quarter,Its thunderous crash, its hollow roar.
Bright birds in the trees make a melody mirthful,The doe bounds down, the hunt flashes by,I hear the shrill horns, they are close upon me!Brave Reynard in front, and the hounds in full cry!
RELIGIOUS POEMS OF THE PEOPLE
Conor O'Riordan, about 1750.
Queen of all Queens, oh! Wonder of the loveliness of women,Heart which hath held in check for us the righteous wrath of God;Strong Staff of Light, and Fosterer of the Bright Child of heaven,Pray thou for us as we now pray that we may be forgiven.She of the King of Stars beloved, stainless, undefiled,Christ chose as His Mother-nurse, to Him, the stainless Child;Within her breast, as in a nest, the Paraclete reposes,Lily among fairest flowers, Rose amid red roses.She, the bright unsheathèd sword to guard our souls in anguish,She, the flawless limber-branch, to cover those that languish;Where her healing mantle flows, may I find my hiding,'Neath the fringes of her robe constantly abiding.Hostile camps upon the plain, sharp swords clashed together,Stricken fleets across the main stressed by wintry weather;Weary sickness on my heart, sinful thoughts alluring,All the fever of my soul clings to her for curing.She the Maid the careful king of the wide wet world chooses,In her speech forgiveness lies, no suppliant she refuses;White Star of our troubled sea, on thy name I'm crying,That Christ may draw in His spread net the living and the dying.
Queen of all Queens, oh! Wonder of the loveliness of women,Heart which hath held in check for us the righteous wrath of God;Strong Staff of Light, and Fosterer of the Bright Child of heaven,Pray thou for us as we now pray that we may be forgiven.She of the King of Stars beloved, stainless, undefiled,Christ chose as His Mother-nurse, to Him, the stainless Child;Within her breast, as in a nest, the Paraclete reposes,Lily among fairest flowers, Rose amid red roses.She, the bright unsheathèd sword to guard our souls in anguish,She, the flawless limber-branch, to cover those that languish;Where her healing mantle flows, may I find my hiding,'Neath the fringes of her robe constantly abiding.Hostile camps upon the plain, sharp swords clashed together,Stricken fleets across the main stressed by wintry weather;Weary sickness on my heart, sinful thoughts alluring,All the fever of my soul clings to her for curing.She the Maid the careful king of the wide wet world chooses,In her speech forgiveness lies, no suppliant she refuses;White Star of our troubled sea, on thy name I'm crying,That Christ may draw in His spread net the living and the dying.
Queen of all Queens, oh! Wonder of the loveliness of women,Heart which hath held in check for us the righteous wrath of God;Strong Staff of Light, and Fosterer of the Bright Child of heaven,Pray thou for us as we now pray that we may be forgiven.
Q
She of the King of Stars beloved, stainless, undefiled,Christ chose as His Mother-nurse, to Him, the stainless Child;Within her breast, as in a nest, the Paraclete reposes,Lily among fairest flowers, Rose amid red roses.
She, the bright unsheathèd sword to guard our souls in anguish,She, the flawless limber-branch, to cover those that languish;Where her healing mantle flows, may I find my hiding,'Neath the fringes of her robe constantly abiding.
Hostile camps upon the plain, sharp swords clashed together,Stricken fleets across the main stressed by wintry weather;Weary sickness on my heart, sinful thoughts alluring,All the fever of my soul clings to her for curing.
She the Maid the careful king of the wide wet world chooses,In her speech forgiveness lies, no suppliant she refuses;White Star of our troubled sea, on thy name I'm crying,That Christ may draw in His spread net the living and the dying.
Hail to thee, thou holy Babe,In the manger now so poor,Yet so rich Thou art, I ween,High within the highest door.Little Babe who art so great,Child so young who art so old,In the manger small His roomWhom not heaven itself could hold.Motherless, with mother here,Fatherless, a tiny span,Ever God in heaven's height,First to-night becoming man.Father—not more old than thou?Mother—younger, can it be!Older, younger is the Son,Younger, older, she than He.Douglas Hyde
Hail to thee, thou holy Babe,In the manger now so poor,Yet so rich Thou art, I ween,High within the highest door.Little Babe who art so great,Child so young who art so old,In the manger small His roomWhom not heaven itself could hold.Motherless, with mother here,Fatherless, a tiny span,Ever God in heaven's height,First to-night becoming man.Father—not more old than thou?Mother—younger, can it be!Older, younger is the Son,Younger, older, she than He.Douglas Hyde
Hail to thee, thou holy Babe,In the manger now so poor,Yet so rich Thou art, I ween,High within the highest door.
Little Babe who art so great,Child so young who art so old,In the manger small His roomWhom not heaven itself could hold.
Motherless, with mother here,Fatherless, a tiny span,Ever God in heaven's height,First to-night becoming man.
Father—not more old than thou?Mother—younger, can it be!Older, younger is the Son,Younger, older, she than He.
Douglas Hyde
O Mary of GracesAnd Mother of God,May I tread in the pathsThat the righteous have trod.And mayest thou save meFrom evil's control,And mayest thou save meIn body and soul.And mayest thou save meBy land and by sea,And mayest thou save meFrom tortures to be.May the guard of the angelsAbove me abide,May God be before meAnd God at my side.Douglas Hyde.
O Mary of GracesAnd Mother of God,May I tread in the pathsThat the righteous have trod.And mayest thou save meFrom evil's control,And mayest thou save meIn body and soul.And mayest thou save meBy land and by sea,And mayest thou save meFrom tortures to be.May the guard of the angelsAbove me abide,May God be before meAnd God at my side.Douglas Hyde.
O Mary of GracesAnd Mother of God,May I tread in the pathsThat the righteous have trod.
And mayest thou save meFrom evil's control,And mayest thou save meIn body and soul.
And mayest thou save meBy land and by sea,And mayest thou save meFrom tortures to be.
May the guard of the angelsAbove me abide,May God be before meAnd God at my side.
Douglas Hyde.
O Trinity of the glorious saints, I marvelthat the White Prince of the Kingdom did descendas a child into the pure womb of Mary.Nine months the Master of the Angels stayedin humility and in great lowliness with her,lighting a furnace of love within her.He came down to earth,the White Lamb, our loosener from sin.O Mother, who found not a dwelling in the city,till thou didst come to the stable to seek a bed;there wast thou lying in poverty,without wine, without flesh, or one taste in thy mouth;on the mean barley chaff in the cattle-shed,she brought forth the only Son of God of the Apostles.Cold and misery you complained not of as your portion,and was it not the holy sight in the manger of the ass?
O Trinity of the glorious saints, I marvelthat the White Prince of the Kingdom did descendas a child into the pure womb of Mary.Nine months the Master of the Angels stayedin humility and in great lowliness with her,lighting a furnace of love within her.He came down to earth,the White Lamb, our loosener from sin.O Mother, who found not a dwelling in the city,till thou didst come to the stable to seek a bed;there wast thou lying in poverty,without wine, without flesh, or one taste in thy mouth;on the mean barley chaff in the cattle-shed,she brought forth the only Son of God of the Apostles.Cold and misery you complained not of as your portion,and was it not the holy sight in the manger of the ass?
O Trinity of the glorious saints, I marvelthat the White Prince of the Kingdom did descendas a child into the pure womb of Mary.Nine months the Master of the Angels stayedin humility and in great lowliness with her,lighting a furnace of love within her.He came down to earth,the White Lamb, our loosener from sin.O Mother, who found not a dwelling in the city,till thou didst come to the stable to seek a bed;there wast thou lying in poverty,without wine, without flesh, or one taste in thy mouth;on the mean barley chaff in the cattle-shed,she brought forth the only Son of God of the Apostles.Cold and misery you complained not of as your portion,and was it not the holy sight in the manger of the ass?
Hail to thee, O Mary,Full of holy graces,Thou our loving MotherWhom the child embraces.Hail to thee, O Mary,Where are our alarms?Is the little Child not blessed,Lying in thine arms?
Hail to thee, O Mary,Full of holy graces,Thou our loving MotherWhom the child embraces.Hail to thee, O Mary,Where are our alarms?Is the little Child not blessed,Lying in thine arms?
Hail to thee, O Mary,Full of holy graces,Thou our loving MotherWhom the child embraces.Hail to thee, O Mary,Where are our alarms?Is the little Child not blessed,Lying in thine arms?
A low prayer, a high prayer, I send through space.Arrange them Thyself, O Thou King of Grace.
A low prayer, a high prayer, I send through space.Arrange them Thyself, O Thou King of Grace.
A low prayer, a high prayer, I send through space.Arrange them Thyself, O Thou King of Grace.
O Mary, O blessed Mother,praise from my heart I sing,it is thou didst bear our Saviour,our Lord and our King.In the stable of Bethlehem's city,at the hour of middle-night,was not sweet the brave song of the angelsfor the King who was born that night?O King of Kings, a thousand glories to Thee,it is Thou who didst bear the crossout to Calvary's hill,and Thou wounded in every spot.We will take courage from the pouring of the blood,and we will follow our Saviour,our Lord and our King,to the city of Glory,along with the throng,Saints, Apostles, and Angels,to the dwelling of God's Son.
O Mary, O blessed Mother,praise from my heart I sing,it is thou didst bear our Saviour,our Lord and our King.In the stable of Bethlehem's city,at the hour of middle-night,was not sweet the brave song of the angelsfor the King who was born that night?O King of Kings, a thousand glories to Thee,it is Thou who didst bear the crossout to Calvary's hill,and Thou wounded in every spot.We will take courage from the pouring of the blood,and we will follow our Saviour,our Lord and our King,to the city of Glory,along with the throng,Saints, Apostles, and Angels,to the dwelling of God's Son.
O Mary, O blessed Mother,praise from my heart I sing,it is thou didst bear our Saviour,our Lord and our King.In the stable of Bethlehem's city,at the hour of middle-night,was not sweet the brave song of the angelsfor the King who was born that night?
O King of Kings, a thousand glories to Thee,it is Thou who didst bear the crossout to Calvary's hill,and Thou wounded in every spot.We will take courage from the pouring of the blood,and we will follow our Saviour,our Lord and our King,to the city of Glory,along with the throng,Saints, Apostles, and Angels,to the dwelling of God's Son.
I rest with Thee, O Jesus,And do Thou rest with me.The oil of Christ on my poor soul,The creed of the Twelve to make me whole,Above my head I see.O Father, who created me,O Son, who purchased me,O Spirit Blest, who blessest me,Rest ye with me.
I rest with Thee, O Jesus,And do Thou rest with me.The oil of Christ on my poor soul,The creed of the Twelve to make me whole,Above my head I see.O Father, who created me,O Son, who purchased me,O Spirit Blest, who blessest me,Rest ye with me.
I rest with Thee, O Jesus,And do Thou rest with me.The oil of Christ on my poor soul,The creed of the Twelve to make me whole,Above my head I see.O Father, who created me,O Son, who purchased me,O Spirit Blest, who blessest me,Rest ye with me.
Great Giver of the open hand,We stand to thank Thee for our meat,A hundred praises, Christ, 'tis meet,For all we drink, for all we eat.
Great Giver of the open hand,We stand to thank Thee for our meat,A hundred praises, Christ, 'tis meet,For all we drink, for all we eat.
Great Giver of the open hand,We stand to thank Thee for our meat,A hundred praises, Christ, 'tis meet,For all we drink, for all we eat.
Three folds of the cloth, yet one only napkin is there,Three joints in the finger, but still only one finger fair;Three leaves of the shamrock, yet no more than one shamrock to wear.Frost, snow-flakes and ice, all in water their origin share,Three Persons in God; to one God alone we make prayer.
Three folds of the cloth, yet one only napkin is there,Three joints in the finger, but still only one finger fair;Three leaves of the shamrock, yet no more than one shamrock to wear.Frost, snow-flakes and ice, all in water their origin share,Three Persons in God; to one God alone we make prayer.
Three folds of the cloth, yet one only napkin is there,Three joints in the finger, but still only one finger fair;Three leaves of the shamrock, yet no more than one shamrock to wear.Frost, snow-flakes and ice, all in water their origin share,Three Persons in God; to one God alone we make prayer.
O King of the Wounds! who found death on the top of the tree,By the hand of the blind was Thy heart's blood riven from Thee;By the blood from Thy wounds flowing down in a pool on the field,O bear us to Paradise, Thou, 'neath the shade of Thy shield.
O King of the Wounds! who found death on the top of the tree,By the hand of the blind was Thy heart's blood riven from Thee;By the blood from Thy wounds flowing down in a pool on the field,O bear us to Paradise, Thou, 'neath the shade of Thy shield.
O King of the Wounds! who found death on the top of the tree,By the hand of the blind was Thy heart's blood riven from Thee;By the blood from Thy wounds flowing down in a pool on the field,O bear us to Paradise, Thou, 'neath the shade of Thy shield.
The cross of the angelsOn the bed where I lie;The robe of the kingdom,May it come very nigh;O Glorious Virgin,My thousand loves thou,My helpful supporter,My affection thou.My woman-physician,Ill or well, thou,My firm faithful helperIn the Kingdom of graces, thou.O gentle Jesus,O Jesus, most gentle,O Jesus Christ, have mercy upon us;O glorious Virgin, pray thou also for us;O Mother of God, O Bright Star of Knowledge,O Queen of Paradise, watch thou and ward us,The light of glory obtain from thy Child for us,A sight of thy house, by thy great power's might, for usThe Light of all lights, and a sight of the Trinity,And the grace of long patience in days of adversity.
The cross of the angelsOn the bed where I lie;The robe of the kingdom,May it come very nigh;O Glorious Virgin,My thousand loves thou,My helpful supporter,My affection thou.My woman-physician,Ill or well, thou,My firm faithful helperIn the Kingdom of graces, thou.O gentle Jesus,O Jesus, most gentle,O Jesus Christ, have mercy upon us;O glorious Virgin, pray thou also for us;O Mother of God, O Bright Star of Knowledge,O Queen of Paradise, watch thou and ward us,The light of glory obtain from thy Child for us,A sight of thy house, by thy great power's might, for usThe Light of all lights, and a sight of the Trinity,And the grace of long patience in days of adversity.
The cross of the angelsOn the bed where I lie;The robe of the kingdom,May it come very nigh;O Glorious Virgin,My thousand loves thou,My helpful supporter,My affection thou.My woman-physician,Ill or well, thou,My firm faithful helperIn the Kingdom of graces, thou.O gentle Jesus,O Jesus, most gentle,O Jesus Christ, have mercy upon us;O glorious Virgin, pray thou also for us;O Mother of God, O Bright Star of Knowledge,O Queen of Paradise, watch thou and ward us,The light of glory obtain from thy Child for us,A sight of thy house, by thy great power's might, for usThe Light of all lights, and a sight of the Trinity,And the grace of long patience in days of adversity.
I lie down with God, and may God lie down with me;The right hand of God under my head,The two hands of Mary round about me,The cross of the nine white angels,From the back of my headTo the sole of my feet.May I not lie with evil,And may evil not lie with me.Anna, mother of Mary,Mary, mother of Christ,Elizabeth, mother of John Baptist,I myself beseech these threeTo keep the couch free from sickness.The tree on which Christ sufferedBe between me and the heavy-lying (nightmare),And any other thing that seeks my harm.With the will of God and the aid of the glorious Virgin.
I lie down with God, and may God lie down with me;The right hand of God under my head,The two hands of Mary round about me,The cross of the nine white angels,From the back of my headTo the sole of my feet.May I not lie with evil,And may evil not lie with me.Anna, mother of Mary,Mary, mother of Christ,Elizabeth, mother of John Baptist,I myself beseech these threeTo keep the couch free from sickness.The tree on which Christ sufferedBe between me and the heavy-lying (nightmare),And any other thing that seeks my harm.With the will of God and the aid of the glorious Virgin.
I lie down with God, and may God lie down with me;The right hand of God under my head,The two hands of Mary round about me,The cross of the nine white angels,From the back of my headTo the sole of my feet.May I not lie with evil,And may evil not lie with me.Anna, mother of Mary,Mary, mother of Christ,Elizabeth, mother of John Baptist,I myself beseech these threeTo keep the couch free from sickness.The tree on which Christ sufferedBe between me and the heavy-lying (nightmare),And any other thing that seeks my harm.With the will of God and the aid of the glorious Virgin.
On going to sleep, think that it is the sleep of death, and that you may be summoned to the Day of the Mountain (i.e.the Day of Judgment), and say:—
On going to sleep, think that it is the sleep of death, and that you may be summoned to the Day of the Mountain (i.e.the Day of Judgment), and say:—
I myself lie down with God,May God lie down with me!The protection of God above my head,And the cross of the angels beneath my body.Where wilt thou lie down to-night?Between Mary and her Son,Between Brigit and her mantle,Between Columcille and his shield,Between God and His right hand.Where wilt thou arise on the morrow?I will arise with Patrick.Who are they in front of us?Two hundred angels.Who are they behind us?As many again of the people of God.Shut the forts of hell,And open the gates of the kingdom of God.Let the mighty radiance out,And lead the sorrowful soul within.O God, have mercy upon us!O Son of the Virgin, may our souls be found by thee!
I myself lie down with God,May God lie down with me!The protection of God above my head,And the cross of the angels beneath my body.Where wilt thou lie down to-night?Between Mary and her Son,Between Brigit and her mantle,Between Columcille and his shield,Between God and His right hand.Where wilt thou arise on the morrow?I will arise with Patrick.Who are they in front of us?Two hundred angels.Who are they behind us?As many again of the people of God.Shut the forts of hell,And open the gates of the kingdom of God.Let the mighty radiance out,And lead the sorrowful soul within.O God, have mercy upon us!O Son of the Virgin, may our souls be found by thee!
I myself lie down with God,May God lie down with me!The protection of God above my head,And the cross of the angels beneath my body.Where wilt thou lie down to-night?Between Mary and her Son,Between Brigit and her mantle,Between Columcille and his shield,Between God and His right hand.Where wilt thou arise on the morrow?I will arise with Patrick.Who are they in front of us?Two hundred angels.Who are they behind us?As many again of the people of God.Shut the forts of hell,And open the gates of the kingdom of God.Let the mighty radiance out,And lead the sorrowful soul within.O God, have mercy upon us!O Son of the Virgin, may our souls be found by thee!
Glory to the Father, glory to the Son, glory to the Holy Ghost of power; as it was in the beginning, so it is now, and shall be for ages of ages. Glory to thee, O Lord.
Glory to the Father, glory to the Son, glory to the Holy Ghost of power; as it was in the beginning, so it is now, and shall be for ages of ages. Glory to thee, O Lord.
I
Welcome to thee, O White Paternoster!And welcome to thyself!Where didst thou sleep last night?As He slept, the King of Light.Where wilt thou sleep again?As the poor will sleep, in want and pain.And the night after that, where wilt thou sleep?At the feet of St. Patrick my rest shall be deep.
Welcome to thee, O White Paternoster!And welcome to thyself!Where didst thou sleep last night?As He slept, the King of Light.Where wilt thou sleep again?As the poor will sleep, in want and pain.And the night after that, where wilt thou sleep?At the feet of St. Patrick my rest shall be deep.
Welcome to thee, O White Paternoster!And welcome to thyself!Where didst thou sleep last night?As He slept, the King of Light.Where wilt thou sleep again?As the poor will sleep, in want and pain.And the night after that, where wilt thou sleep?At the feet of St. Patrick my rest shall be deep.
II
Who are they out before thee I see?Twelve fair angels defending me.Who are they behind thee west?The twelve apostles ever blest.What may that at thy right hand be?Holy water that Mary gave me,That it might lead me, with guidance wise,From this door to the door of Paradise.
Who are they out before thee I see?Twelve fair angels defending me.Who are they behind thee west?The twelve apostles ever blest.What may that at thy right hand be?Holy water that Mary gave me,That it might lead me, with guidance wise,From this door to the door of Paradise.
Who are they out before thee I see?Twelve fair angels defending me.Who are they behind thee west?The twelve apostles ever blest.What may that at thy right hand be?Holy water that Mary gave me,That it might lead me, with guidance wise,From this door to the door of Paradise.
III
The key of Paradise, that I need;The vat of gold stands there, indeed,With its cover above it, golden-bright;Yonder where candles blaze alight;Candles that cannot be removedTill the full of my two hands shall beThe flowing fulness of stream and sea.
The key of Paradise, that I need;The vat of gold stands there, indeed,With its cover above it, golden-bright;Yonder where candles blaze alight;Candles that cannot be removedTill the full of my two hands shall beThe flowing fulness of stream and sea.
The key of Paradise, that I need;The vat of gold stands there, indeed,With its cover above it, golden-bright;Yonder where candles blaze alight;Candles that cannot be removedTill the full of my two hands shall beThe flowing fulness of stream and sea.
IV
O Men of the World who are shedding tears,I put Mary with her Son between you and your fears,Brigit with her mantle,Michael with his shield,And the two long white hands of God from behind folding us all,Between you and each griefAll the years,From this night till a year from to-night,And this night itself, with God.
O Men of the World who are shedding tears,I put Mary with her Son between you and your fears,Brigit with her mantle,Michael with his shield,And the two long white hands of God from behind folding us all,Between you and each griefAll the years,From this night till a year from to-night,And this night itself, with God.
O Men of the World who are shedding tears,I put Mary with her Son between you and your fears,Brigit with her mantle,Michael with his shield,And the two long white hands of God from behind folding us all,Between you and each griefAll the years,From this night till a year from to-night,And this night itself, with God.
May the will of God be done by us,May the death of the saints be won by us,And the light of the kingdom begun in us;May Jesus, the Child, be beside my bed,May the Lamb of mercy uplift my head,May the Virgin her heavenly brightness shed,And Michael be steward of my soul!
May the will of God be done by us,May the death of the saints be won by us,And the light of the kingdom begun in us;May Jesus, the Child, be beside my bed,May the Lamb of mercy uplift my head,May the Virgin her heavenly brightness shed,And Michael be steward of my soul!
May the will of God be done by us,May the death of the saints be won by us,And the light of the kingdom begun in us;May Jesus, the Child, be beside my bed,May the Lamb of mercy uplift my head,May the Virgin her heavenly brightness shed,And Michael be steward of my soul!
"Are you asleep, Mother?""I am not, indeed, my son.""How is that, Mother?""Because of a vision I have of thee.""What vision is that, Mother?""There came a slim dark man on a slender black steed,A sharp lance in his left hand,Which pierced thy right side,Letting thy sacred blood pour down upon thee.""True is that vision, Mother."
"Are you asleep, Mother?""I am not, indeed, my son.""How is that, Mother?""Because of a vision I have of thee.""What vision is that, Mother?""There came a slim dark man on a slender black steed,A sharp lance in his left hand,Which pierced thy right side,Letting thy sacred blood pour down upon thee.""True is that vision, Mother."
"Are you asleep, Mother?""I am not, indeed, my son.""How is that, Mother?""Because of a vision I have of thee.""What vision is that, Mother?""There came a slim dark man on a slender black steed,A sharp lance in his left hand,Which pierced thy right side,Letting thy sacred blood pour down upon thee.""True is that vision, Mother."
The safe-guarding of my soul be Thine,O Father Ever-mighty;O Blessed Mary,Nurse of the King of Glory;Michael the angel,Their peaceful messenger,The twelve apostles, andThe Lord of Mercy,So that they may beSafe-guarding my soulUnto the city of Glory.
The safe-guarding of my soul be Thine,O Father Ever-mighty;O Blessed Mary,Nurse of the King of Glory;Michael the angel,Their peaceful messenger,The twelve apostles, andThe Lord of Mercy,So that they may beSafe-guarding my soulUnto the city of Glory.
The safe-guarding of my soul be Thine,O Father Ever-mighty;O Blessed Mary,Nurse of the King of Glory;Michael the angel,Their peaceful messenger,The twelve apostles, andThe Lord of Mercy,So that they may beSafe-guarding my soulUnto the city of Glory.
I lie on this bedAs I lie in the tomb.Firmly, O Jesus,I make my confession to Thee.Through deeds of my flesh,Through thoughts of my heart,Through sight of my eyes,Through hearing of my ears,Through speech of my lips,Through movements of my feet,Through everything spokenWhich was not true;Through each thing promisedAnd not fulfilled;Each thing that I did against Thy law,Or against Thy sacred will,I ask forgiveness from Thee,O King of Glory.
I lie on this bedAs I lie in the tomb.Firmly, O Jesus,I make my confession to Thee.Through deeds of my flesh,Through thoughts of my heart,Through sight of my eyes,Through hearing of my ears,Through speech of my lips,Through movements of my feet,Through everything spokenWhich was not true;Through each thing promisedAnd not fulfilled;Each thing that I did against Thy law,Or against Thy sacred will,I ask forgiveness from Thee,O King of Glory.
I lie on this bedAs I lie in the tomb.Firmly, O Jesus,I make my confession to Thee.Through deeds of my flesh,Through thoughts of my heart,Through sight of my eyes,Through hearing of my ears,Through speech of my lips,Through movements of my feet,Through everything spokenWhich was not true;Through each thing promisedAnd not fulfilled;Each thing that I did against Thy law,Or against Thy sacred will,I ask forgiveness from Thee,O King of Glory.
Fair Jesu, guide Thy straying sheepAlong the fragrant valleys,And where the meadow-grass grows deep,Guard from the wild wolf's sallies;No sickness unto death be theirs,But sickness unto healing,Our sickness be for love to TheeO King of all the living.
Fair Jesu, guide Thy straying sheepAlong the fragrant valleys,And where the meadow-grass grows deep,Guard from the wild wolf's sallies;No sickness unto death be theirs,But sickness unto healing,Our sickness be for love to TheeO King of all the living.
Fair Jesu, guide Thy straying sheepAlong the fragrant valleys,And where the meadow-grass grows deep,Guard from the wild wolf's sallies;No sickness unto death be theirs,But sickness unto healing,Our sickness be for love to TheeO King of all the living.
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