To heave on ocean's breast.
Sad is our doom, dear friends, on wintry seas
Through many a year to freeze,—
Harsh brine and rocks, with horrid sea-weed brown
For Lir's soft beds of down!
No more the joy of Lir's paternal breast,
Early we part unblest!
A power unseen commands that we forsake
Lone Dairvreac's peaceful lake.
Rise from the wave, companions of my fear,