Not home to land and kindred wast thou brought, Nor laid 'mid trampled dead of battle won,-- Nor after long life filled with duty done Was thine such death as thou thyself had'st sought!...
A brother's eye had seen the grief That Duart's lady bore; His boat with sail half-raised flies down The sound by green Lismore. Ahaladah, Ahaladah! Why speeds your boat so fast?...
A land untamed, whose myriad isles Are set in branching lakes that vein Illimitable silent woods, Voiceful in Fall, when their defiles, Rich with the birch's golden rain,...