Chapter I: Heard a Piper Piping

I heard a piper piping
The blue hills among--
And never did I hear
So plaintive a song.

It seemed but a part
Of the hills' melancholy:
No piper living there
Could ever be jolly!

And still the piper piped
The blue hills among,
And all the birds were quiet
To listen to his song.

THE CLOUDS GO BY AND BY

The clouds go by and by,
The heron sings in the blue--
And I lie dreaming, dreaming
Ever of you.

The stag on the hill is free,
And the wind is blowing sweet--
But I lie bound a prisoner
At your feet.

DAVY DAW

Woa! are you there my bonny mare?
Your whinny seems to say--
"By Bealach forge and Creagach fair
We'll gallop hard to-day!"
You champ your snaffle all to foam,
And fleck your counter bright;
But now we bid adieu to home
Until the fall of night.
Davy Daw, Davy Daw, with his early horn,
His hunting-crop and bag of corn--
His heart's as merry as a mottle-thrush
That sings all day in the hawthorn bush.

Come hither, Bran of ancient seed,
And lick your master's hand;
I swear no dog of purer breed
Is found in all the land.
Brave scion of Cuchullain's branch,
Well do you, hound, uphold
The prowess and the courage staunch
That marked your line of old.
Davy Daw, Davy Daw, my merry man,
I love toast crab in a pewter can.
Our tastes are like as like can be--
But a measure of ale in the can for me!

The wind is low and scent is good,
And Mada's on the green:
He hid his head in Cratla Wood
Since early yestere'en.
You beat the bush from peep of light,
And set the whins afire;
And now the tory is in sight,
You've got your heart's desire.
Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a crab well-browned
In the smiling flood of a cruiscin drowned.
Give me, sirree, my crab and ale,
And bog or batter, my heart won't fail!

The sun is out, and Davy's up,
And hounds are on the run:
It's hard he'll earn his stirrup-cup
Before the day is done!
A jolly life we hunters lead
Upon the saddle high:
We see no devil in the bead,
And drain our noggins dry.
Davy Daw, Davy Daw is a huntsman bold;
He's more to me than a kingdom's gold.
A hind for dinner and a hare to sup--
O that's what I get when Davy's up!

The fox is fast upon the hill,
He's wary in the dale;
But I will ride to Penny Mill
Before I lose his tail.
That brush was born to make a cap
For gallant Eoin Og;
And I will have it, hang-or-hap,
As sure as I'm a rogue.
Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a morning chase,
With an Irish blood to make the pace:
He's last to check and first to view,
And hard to the death he leads his queue.

Day in we hunt the spinney fox,
Day out the rapparee;
_His_ cave is in the broken rocks
Above the Correi-buidhe.
A shameful thing, the ladies say,
To hunt your fellow-man;
But follow him till hard at bay
It's just the ladies can!
Davy Daw, Davy Daw, the brush is won!
A good job, sir, our work is done.
Whitefoot went lame this side o' the mill,
And I'm as dry as an old lime-kiln.

Red rogue, he'll kill his goose no more:
Close work it was, for the light is o'er.
Just _close_ work, sir, but the Dub's _close to_,
With a can for me and a crab for you!

BLACK SILE OF THE SILVER EYE

As I rode down to Gartan fair
I met a girl upon the way:
The winter night was on her hair,
The summer dawn was in her eye.

And O, she stepped with such a gait,
And bore her round black head so high,
And tossed it so, I knew her straight
For Sile of the Silver Eye.

"God save you, Sile, love," says I:
"God save you kindly," murmured she--
And love was welling in her eye
As she dropped me the courtesy.

The mountain boys upon the road
Were at themselves for jealousy
When they saw Seamus win the nod
From Sile of the Silver Eye.

We rode together to the fair,
We danced together on the green;
And, faith, they say a suppler pair
Was ne'er before a piper seen.

Black Sile of the Silver Eye
Has been my wife for twenty year,
And still her sloe-black head is high,
And still her eye is silver clear.

And, God be praised, we have a girl,
As like her as like well can be--
The round black head, the roguish curl,
The soft tongue and the silver eye.

God bless the old, God bless the new,
And send them stout posterity--
Old Sile and young Sile, too--
Both "Sile of the Silver Eye!"

A SHEEPDOG BARKS ON THE MOUNTAIN

A sheepdog barks on the mountain,
The night is fallen cold;
The shepherd blinks at his fire,
The sheep are in the fold.

The moon comes white and quiet
Into the winter sky;
And nothing walks the valley
To-night but you and I.

DEAD OAKLEAVES EVERYWHERE

Dead oakleaves everywhere
Under my feet,
Filling the forest air
With odours sweet.

Acorns, three, four and five,
Falling apace.
Thank God I am alive
This day of grace!

A NIGHT PRAYER

Pray for me, Seachnal,
Pray for me, Mel:
Save me from sin
And the cold stone of hell!

Brigid and Ita
And Eithne the Red,
Spread out your mantles
And cover my bed!

For rann and gospel
Have gone from my mind,
And devils are walking
Abroad in the wind!