Hills of my love, farewell for aye.

Farewell ye youths, so bold and free,
And fare ye well, ye maids divine!
No more I can see ye--yours is the glee
Of the summer, the gloom of the winter mine.

At noon-tide carry me into the sun,
To the bank by the side of the wandering stream,
To rest the shamrock and daisy upon,
And then will return of my youth the dream.

Place ye by my side my harp and shell,
And the shield, my fathers in battle bore;
Ye halls, where Oisin and Daoul {72} dwell,
Unclose--for at eve I shall be no more.




PROPHECY {73a} OF TALIESIN.


From the Ancient British.

Within my mind
I hold books confin'd,
Of Europa's land all the mighty lore;
O God of heaven high!
With how many a bitter sigh,