over:--

'It was Thomas O'Daly that roused up young people and scattered
them, and since death played on him, may God give him grace. The
country is all sorrowful, always talking, since their man of sport
died that would win the goal in all parts with his music.

'The swans on the water are nine times blacker than a blackberry
since the man died from us that had pleasantness on the top of his
fingers. His two grey eyes were like the dew of the morning that
lies on the grass. And since he was laid in the grave, the cold is
getting the upper hand.

'If you travel the five provinces, you would not find his equal for
countenance or behaviour, for his equal never walked on land or
grass. High King of Nature, you who have all powers in yourself, he
that wasn't narrow-hearted, give him shelter in heaven for it.

'He was the beautiful branch. In every quarter that he ever knew he
would scatter his fill and not gather. He would spend the estate of
the Dalys, their beer and their wine. And that he may be sitting in
the chair of grace, in the middle of Paradise.

'A sorrowful story on death, it 's he is the ugly chief that did
treachery, that didn't give him credit, O strong God, for a little
time.

'There are young women, and not without reason, sorry and
heart-broken and withered, since he was left at the church. Their
hair thrown down and hanging, turned grey on their head.