Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/83

Rh

The tears are ever in my wasted eye,
 * My heart is crushed and my thoughts are sad;

For the son of chivalry was forced to fly. And no tidings come from the soldier lad. Chorus—My heart—it danced when he was near.
 * My hero! my Cæsar!—my Chevalier!
 * But while he wanders o'er the sea,
 * Joy can never be joy to me.

Silent and sad pines the lone cuckoo. Our chieftains hang o'er the grave of joy; Their tears fall heavy as the summer's dew. For the Lord of their hearts—the banished boy.
 * Chorus—My heart—it danced, &c.