Page:Sailor's tragedy (4).pdf/6

6 Erin, my country; tho’ sad and forsaken,

In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;

But alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,

And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more.

Ah cruel Fate! Wilt thou never replace me,

In a mansion of peace where no peril can chace me?

Ah never again shall my brothers embrace me

They died to defend me or live to deplore.

Where is my cabin door fast by the wild wood?

Sister and sire do you weep for its fall

Where is the mother that looked on my childhood,

And where is the bosom friend dearer than all.

All my sad soul I long abandoned by pleasure;

Why did it doat on a fast falling treasure

Tears like the rain-drop may fall without measure

But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.

But yet all its fond recollection surpassing,

One dying wish my fond bosom will draw;

Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing,

Land of my forefathers, Erin Go Bragh.

Buried and cold while my heart stills its motion;

Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean,

And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion,

Erin ma Vourneen Erin Go Bragh.