Volume: CBÉ 0485 (Part 2)

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1. The Dying Minstrel

   

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   The minstrel's hands swept o'er the keys,
   A magic gloom was in the tone;
   He smiled as if a smile could ease
   A soul from which sweet youth had flown.
   The tears of sad regret now fill
   His moist 'ning eye, his heart with pain;
   He looks him to a flow'ry hill
   That echo'd oft his harp's sweet strain -
   And now his dying heart would fain
   To make it echo once again.

   Approaching death his spirit chills
   And mars the joy which music gave;
   And he whose harp did wake the hills
   Shall vanish soon within the grave.
   He sinks; he raves; he dies; he's gone!
   Admidst a sorrowing people's wail;
   And gone's a light that brightly shone
   That spread its lustre o'er the vale.
   His strains no more shall rouse the dale,
   For gone's that human night-in-gale.

   

   Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.

   History Edit

   Item type

   Lore

   Language

   Béarla

   Writing mode

   Handwritten

   Writing script

   Roman script

   Informant

   • Michael J. Neary