Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 8
Of all the fair months, that round the sun|
In light-link'd dance their circles run,
Sweet May, shine thou for me;
For still, when thy earliest beams arise,
That youth, who beneath the blue lake lies,
Sweet May, returns to me.
2. Of all the bright haunts, where daylight leaves
3. Of all the proud steeds that ever bore|
Young plumed Chiefs on sea or shore,
White Steed, most joy to thee;
Who still, with the first young glance of spring,
From under that glorious lake dost bring
My love, my chief, to me.
4. While, white as the sail some bark unfurls,
5. Of all the sweet deaths that maidens die,|
Whose lovers beneath the cold wave lie,
Most sweet that death will be,
Which, under the next May evening's light,
When thou and thy steed are lost to sight,
Dear love, I'll die for thee.
Among other stories connecteed with Legend of the Lakes, it is said that there was a young and beautiful girl whose imagination was so impressed with the idea of this visionary chieftain, that she fancied herself in love with him, and at last, in a fit of insanity, on a May morning threw herself into the lake.
** The boatmen at Killarney call those waves which come on a windy day, crested with foam, "O'Donohue's white horses." - from Irish Melodies.
| Song Index | Home Page |