Page:Irish Melodies.djvu/64

42 , oh ! be the roar of thy water,
 * Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose,

While, murmuring mournfully, 's lonely daughter
 * Tells to the night-star her tale of woes.

When shall the swan, her death-note singing,
 * Sleep, with wings in darkness furl'd?

When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
 * Call my spirit from this stormy world?