Eily I’ve sent him a letther by Myles, and Myles has never come back—I’ve got no answer—he won’t spake to me—I am standin’ betune him and fortune—I’m in the way of his happiness. I wish I was dead!
Sheelah Whisht! be thee husht! what talk is that? when I’m tuk sad that way, I go down to the chapel and pray a turn—it lifts the cloud off my heart.
Eily I can’t pray; I’ve tried, but unless I pray for him, I can’t bring my mind to it.
Sheelah I never saw a colleen that loved as you love; sorra come to me, but I b’lieve you’ve got enough to supply all Munster, and more left over than would choke ye if you wern’t azed of it.
Eily He’ll come back—I’m sure he will; I was wicked to doubt. Oh! Sheelah! what becomes of the girls he doesn’t love? Is there anything goin’ on in the world where he isn’t?
Sheelah There now—you’re smilin’ again.
Eily I’m like the first mornin’ when he met me—there was dew on the young day’s eye—a smile on the lips o’ the lake. Hardress will come back—oh! yes; he’ll never leave his poor Eily all alone by herself in this place. Whisht, now, an’ I’ll tell you. [Music.
Song.—Air, “Pretty Girl Milking her Cow.”
’Twas on a bright morning in summer,