Like to a spectral host each sharp slim shape,
Each leaping lake swelled to a mighty main;
Wide as a wether's skin each falling flake,
Shield-broad, each drop of rain.
Swift frost again hath fastened all the ways,
It strove and struggled upwards o'er the wold,
About Colt's standing-stone the tempest sways,
Shuddering, men cry, "'Tis cold!"
[IN PRAISE OF MAY]
Ascribed to Fionn mac Cumhaill.
May-day! delightful day!
Bright colours play the vale along.
Now wakes at morning's slender ray
Wild and gay the blackbird's song.
Now comes the bird of dusty hue,
The loud cuckoo, the summer-lover;
Branchy trees are thick with leaves;
The bitter, evil time is over.
Swift horses gather nigh
Where half dry the river goes;
Tufted heather clothes the height;
Weak and white the bogdown blows.
Corncrake sings from eve to morn,
Deep in corn, a strenuous bard!
Sings the virgin waterfall,
White and tall, her one sweet word.