Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/39

While o'er the snowy page she poured along
The silent burthen of that wondrous song.
It was a glorious record—in those lays
Burned the bright memory of other days;
Meanwhile, with glowing lip, and voice that rolled
Symphonious to their theme, the maiden told.
In language of the Gael, the sage's lore—
The virtue—the emprise—in days of yore
That Banba nurtured³—and across the brine
She traced the prows of the Milesian line.
The berry's glow, the swan's unsullied plume,
Her cheek of softness blended to illume—
Her forehead—oh! t'was smooth as infancy
Exhibits, ere the soul forget the sky.
Its bright eternal home; ere mortal care
Hath left its shadow or its impress there.—
And, o'er its soft expanse, so brightly meek.
Her sable brow was arched with slenderest streak.
Her eyes with light, with lambent glory fraught.
Flashed deep into my soul— the maiden wrought
On satin garments, next, the mingling chase;
Wolves—hunters—hounds, were there in headlong race;
There too, the broidery portrayed the brave
Who gathered laurels o'er the bounding wave.
With faltering tongue, I said, celestial fair!
Vouchsafe a gracious answer to my prayer.