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Sweet May, sweet May, shine thou for me;
Sweet May, sweet May, returns to me.
Fair Lake, fair Lake, thou’rt dear to me;
Who dwells, who dwells, bright Lake, in thee.
White Steed, white Steed, most joy to thee,
Proud Steed, proud Steed, my love to me.
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.
IV. While, white as the sail some bark unfurls, When newly launch'd, thy long mane* curls,
Fair Steed, fair Steed, as white and free ; And spirits, from all the lake's deep bowers, Glide o'er the blue wave scattering flowers,
Fair Steed, around my love and thee.
Of all the sweet deaths that maidens die,
Most sweet, 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, dear love, I'll die for thee.
* The boatmen at Killarney call those waves which come on a windy day, crested with foam, “O'Donohue's white horses."
To Music at night,
Goes answering light.
And far more sweet,
The songs repeat.
III. 'Tis when the sigh in youth sincere,
And only then, The sigh, that's breathed for one to hear, Is by that one, that only dear,
Breathed back again!
OH BANQUET NOT.
Where Youth resorts—but come to me,
And many a cup in silence pour-
Our toasts, to lips that bloom no more.
Their lifeless leaves around us shed,
To friends long lost, the changed, the dead.
Its branches o'er the dreary spot,
Where valour sleeps, unnamed, forgot!
Of thee, thee, only thee.
And smiles are near that once enchanted,
By thee, thee, only thee.
Whatever in fame's high path could waken
For thee, thee, only thee.
To the ocean hurriès-resting never-
To thee, thee, only thee.