Lends wings to the tardiest feet,
And joy to the sorrowing heart.
“Upheaved, the fair dancers would feel
Like birds, poising light on the wing,
As nimbly they trip in the reel,
And roll off the steps of the fling.
“No requiems grand I assail,
Like Handel’s Dead March, played in ‘Saul,’
But yet I maintain that the Gael
In coronachs vanquishes all.