At the grey dawn, amongst the felling leaves, A little bird outside my window swung, High on a topmost branch he trilled his song, And 'Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!' ever sung. ...
This is an evil night to go, my sister, To the fairy-tree across the fairy rath, Will you not wait till Hallow Eve is over? For many are the dangers in your path! ...
Who knocks at the Geraldine's door to-night In the black storm and the rain? With the thunder crash and the shrieking wind Comes the moan of a creature's pain.
I struck you once, I do remember well. Hard on the track of passion sorrow sped, And swift repentance, weeping for the blow; I struck you once-and now you're lying dead! ...
Thrice in the night the priest arose From broken sleep to kneel and pray. 'Hush, poor ghost, till the red cock crows, And I a Mass for your soul may say.'
This is the story of Black Earl Roderick, the story and the song of his pride and of his humbling; of the bitterness of his heart, and of the love that came to it at last; of his threatened destruction, and the strange and wond...