Thy psalms would bring me little joy.
If lived, the Fenian deeds to sing,
Sweet Fergus with his voice of glee;
Or Daire, who trilled a faultless string,
Small pleasure were thy bells to me.
If lived the dauntless little Hugh,
Or Fillan, courteous, kind and meek,
Or Conan bald, for whom the dew
Of sorrow yet is on my cheek,
Or that small dwarf whose power could steep