Page:Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry - Meyer.djvu/72

 The lowing of heifers in summer, Brightest of seasons! Not bitter, toilsome over the fertile plain, Delightful, smooth!

The voice of the wind against the branchy wood Upon the deep-blue sky: Falls of the river, the note of the swan, Delicious music!

The bravest band make cheer to me, Who have not been hired: In the eyes of Christ the ever-young I am no worse
 * off

Than thou art.

Though thou rejoicest in thy own pleasures, Greater than any wealth; I am grateful for what is given me From my good Christ.

Without an hour of fighting, without the din of
 * strife

In my house, Grateful to the Prince who giveth every good To me in my shieling.

I would give my glorious kingship With the share of my father's heritage— To the hour of my death I would forfeit it To be in thy company, my Marvan.