Sleep a little, with my blessing, Dermot of the lightsome eye,
I will guard thee as thou dreamest, none shall harm while I am by.
Sleep, O little lamb, whose home-land was the country of the lakes,
In whose womb the torrents rumble, from whose sides the river breaks.
Sleep as slept the ancient Poet, Dedach, minstrel of the South,
When he snatched from Conall Cernach, Eithne of the laughing mouth.
Sleep as slept the comely Finncha ‘neath the falls of Assaroe,
Who, when stately Slaine sought him, laid the Hard-head Failbe low.
Sleep in joy, as slept fair Aine, Gailan’s daughter of the West,
Where, amid the flaming torches, she and Duvac found their rest.