Fading—fading—fading—fading—
Ere morn comes over the hills to the sea.
’T is so with all of the visions of man,
Howe’er he strive and howe’er he plan—
Fleeting—fleeting—fleeting—fleeting—
For life, alas, is a narrow span!
[p 18]
]TYRCONNELL
They crowned Tyrconnell
On the rock of Doon;
“Hail! hail!” they said,