Poems (Ford)/Lough Neagh
LOUGH NEAGH.
Fair lake, I've stood upon thy shore
In Erin's glorious spring,
When o'er thy azure bosom swept
The sea-gull's snowy wing,
When, folded over earth's broad breast,
From the bright wave below
An emerald mantle stretched, with fringe
Of hawthorns' fragrant snow.
In Erin's glorious spring,
When o'er thy azure bosom swept
The sea-gull's snowy wing,
When, folded over earth's broad breast,
From the bright wave below
An emerald mantle stretched, with fringe
Of hawthorns' fragrant snow.
Thy placid bosom shows no sign
Of ages long gone by—
It but reflects the varied hues
Of Erin's changeful sky;
No footprints of the buried race
In the green vale below,
Who lived, loved, died, and left no trace,
Thy tranquil waters show.
Of ages long gone by—
It but reflects the varied hues
Of Erin's changeful sky;
No footprints of the buried race
In the green vale below,
Who lived, loved, died, and left no trace,
Thy tranquil waters show.
No sunken towers to greet my sight
Thy glassy mirror gave,
Save where Shane's Castle stood alone
Reflected in the wave.
Its towers, like hoary sages, raise
Their heads, with ruin gray,
To tell us of a grand old race
Forever passed away.
Thy glassy mirror gave,
Save where Shane's Castle stood alone
Reflected in the wave.
Its towers, like hoary sages, raise
Their heads, with ruin gray,
To tell us of a grand old race
Forever passed away.
That brave old valiant race who long
The Saxon power withstood—
To keep proud Freedom's ark afloat
They freely shed their blood;
Now o'er their hallowed dust is heard
The despot's clanking chain—
Their moss-grown tombs, their ruined halls,
Are all that now remain.
The Saxon power withstood—
To keep proud Freedom's ark afloat
They freely shed their blood;
Now o'er their hallowed dust is heard
The despot's clanking chain—
Their moss-grown tombs, their ruined halls,
Are all that now remain.
Not all! In Erin's heart of hearts
Their memory still will live,
Kept fragrant by the purest tears
A mother's love can give;
And on her history's brightest page
Their deeds, their high renown,
Shall shine—our country's northern lights,
When tower and hall go down.
Their memory still will live,
Kept fragrant by the purest tears
A mother's love can give;
And on her history's brightest page
Their deeds, their high renown,
Shall shine—our country's northern lights,
When tower and hall go down.
The waters break in heavy sobs
Against the castle's wall,
Like spirits of the olden time
Come back to weep its fall;
But sobs are Erin's household words—
Since tyrants trod her strand
She's shed a flood of tears and blood
Might deluge all the land.
Against the castle's wall,
Like spirits of the olden time
Come back to weep its fall;
But sobs are Erin's household words—
Since tyrants trod her strand
She's shed a flood of tears and blood
Might deluge all the land.
Fair lake, while gazing on thy breast
And on my country's woe,
I've almost wished that far above
Her mountains thou wouldst flow;
Better that Lethe's wave o'er her
And all her woes should roll,
Did not the heavenly light of hope
Shine on her tortured soul.
And on my country's woe,
I've almost wished that far above
Her mountains thou wouldst flow;
Better that Lethe's wave o'er her
And all her woes should roll,
Did not the heavenly light of hope
Shine on her tortured soul.
The iron hand that long has held
Our nation in the dust,
So often wet with martyrs' blood,
At last must turn to rust;
One vigorous blow its strength must crush,—
Once crushed, 't will rise no more
To blight the bloom on Erin's cheek,
Or curse Lough Neagh's green shore.
Our nation in the dust,
So often wet with martyrs' blood,
At last must turn to rust;
One vigorous blow its strength must crush,—
Once crushed, 't will rise no more
To blight the bloom on Erin's cheek,
Or curse Lough Neagh's green shore.