St. Feinah’s Tree. A Legend of Loch Neagh
Metadata research and editing
DVPP Project Team
Kailey
Fukushima
University of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry Project
Victoria, BC, Canada
In the public domain
Included in St. Feinah’s Tree. A Legend of Loch Neagh (155-63), by M. L. B. (SP)
Forget-Me-Not
1830
162–163
They say, my sons are sleeping
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Auto-tagged instances of cross-stanza rhyme based on existing labels.
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They say, my sons are sleeping
Beneath the treach’rous wave,
And I—their mother—keeping
A wild watch o’er their grave ;
But are they dead ?—nay, seeming
Deep in the lake to lie,
They’re whisp’ring love, or dreaming,
And will not heed my cry.
Ullah !
Flow on, flow on, glad waters—
The loved, the young, the brave,
Are gone to court thy daughters,
The blithe ones of the wave.
Shine on, thou lake of pleasure,
When late thy breast was spread,
Each sunk, to seek his treasure,
As on a rosy bed.
Ullah !
Bloom on, green isles of beauty,
Ye’ll sparkle not in vain ;
For though to mortal duty.
The loved ne’er rise again ;
Yet, since they did adore ye,
By the moon’s melting ray
They’ll rove with sea-maids o’er ye,
Or elves, more bright than they.
Ullah !
Rise, dear ones, from the waters!
And glad me with your smile ;
The lake’s enamour’d daughters
May spare ye for a while :
Quit, quit their love, too
tender,
Their music, and their wine ;
Leave, leave their homes of splendour
One hour, to brighten mine !
Ullah !
M. L. B.