Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XII. Irsk Revolte og Oppositionspoesi
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over ham, hvis Ry blev formørket af hans Fjender,
og som, skjøndt kaldet skyldig af dem, kun var
altfor trofast mod sin Elskte.
Man blade endnu noget længere frem i Samlingen
og man støder paa et Digt, der er nøie
knyttet til de to anførte, og som med milde
Farver maler den Unævntes efterladte Brud:
She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,
And lovers are round her, sighing
But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying.
She sings the wild song of her native plains,
Every note which he lov’d awaking
Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains,
How the heart of the Minstrel is breaking.
He had liv’d for his love, for his country he died,
They were all that to life had entwin’d him
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Oh make her a grave where the sunbeams rest,
When they promise a glorious morrow;
They’ll shine o’er her sleep, like a smile from the West,
From her own lov’d island of sorrow.
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