Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Sir Samuel Ferguson. 18101886714. The Fair Hills of Ireland FROM THE IRISH
A PLENTEOUS place is Ireland for hospitable cheer, | |
Uileacan dubh O! | |
Where the wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley ear; | |
Uileacan dubh O! | |
There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand, | 5 |
And her forest paths in summer are by falling waters fann’d, | |
There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i’ the yellow sand, | |
On the fair hills of holy Ireland. | |
Curl’d he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee— | |
Uileacan dubh O! | 10 |
Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea; | |
Uileacan dubh O! | |
And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand, | |
Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand, | |
And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high command, | 15 |
For the fair hills of holy Ireland. | |
Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground, | |
Uileacan dubh O! | |
The butter and the cream do wondrously abound; | |
Uileacan dubh O! | 20 |
The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand, | |
And the cuckoo ‘s calling daily his note of music bland, | |
And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i’ the forests grand, | |
On the fair hills of holy Ireland. |