EDMUND OF THE HILL by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN

You, with voice shrill and sharp,
Like the high tones of a harp,
Why knock you at my door like a warning?"
I am Ned of the Hill, I am wet, cold, and chill,
Toiling o'er hill and vale since morning!"
Ah, my love, is it you?
What on earth can I do?
My gown cannot yield you a corner.
Ah! they'll soon find you out
They'll shoot you, never doubt,

And it's I that will then be a mourner!"
Long I'm wandering in woe,
In frost and in snow,
No house can I enter boldly
My ploughs lie unyoked
My fields weeds have choked
And my friends they look on me coldly!
Forsaken of all,
And My heart is in thrall:
All-withered lies my life's garland,
I must look afar For a brighter star,
Must seek my home in a far land!

O! thou of neck fair,
And curling hair,
With blue eyes flashing and sparkling!
For a year and more
Has my heart been sore,
And my soul for thee been darkling.
O, could we but both, -
You nothing loth,
Escape to the wood and forest,
What Light and Calm,
What healing balm,
Should I have for my sorrows sorest! "

My fond one and dear,
The greenwood is near,
And the lake where the trout is springing
You will see the doe,
The deer and the roe,
And will hear the sweet birds singing,
The blackbird and thrush In the hawthorn bush,
And the lone cuckoo from his high nest,
And you never need fear,
That Death would be near,
In this bright scenery divinest!

O! could the sweet dove,
The maiden of my love,
But know how fettered is her lover!
The snows all the night
Fell in valley and on height,
Through our fated island over,
But ere the sun's rays
Glance over seven days,
She and I, as I hope, will renew love;
And rather would I be
Deep drowned in the sea,
Than be faithless to her, my true love!"

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