THE FAIR HILLS OF IRELAND
by: Samuel Ferguson (1810-1886)
- PLENTEOUS
place is Ireland for hospitable cheer,
- Uileacan dubh O!
- Where the wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley
ear;
- Uileacan dubh O!
- There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand,
- And her forest paths in summer are by falling waters fannd,
- There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i
the yellow sand,
- On the fair hills of holy Ireland.
-
- Curld he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee--
- Uileacan dubh O!
- Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea;
- Uileacan dubh O!
- And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand,
- Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand,
- And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high command,
- For the fair hills of holy Ireland.
-
- Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground,
- Uileacan dubh O!
- The butter and the cream do wondrously abound;
- Uileacan dubh O!
- The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand,
- And the cuckoos calling daily his note of music bland,
- And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i the
forests grand,
- On the fair hills of holy Ireland.
"The Fair Hills of Ireland"
is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Verse. Ed.
Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch. Oxford: Clarendon, 1919. |
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POEMS BY SAMUEL FERGUSON |
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