Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/113

 Rh In her own native strains, and with looks passing fair, She accosted me thus, and then vanished in air. — I grieved lest my vision too soon I might deem The work of enchantment—a flattering dream.

Thou, who man hast redeemed by dire suffering and toil. This redemption, oh! grant to my dear native soil; May the woes that o'er Erin her foemen would spread, With vengeance alight on their own guilty head!