Explore "Carolan's Lament. from the Irish" by George Borrow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The arts of Greece, Rome and of Eirin's fair earth, / If at my sole command they this moment were all, / I'd give, though I'm fully aware of their worth, / Could they back from the dead my lost Mary recall.
I'm distrest every noon, now I sit down alone, / And at morn, now with me she arises no more: / With no woman alive after Thee would I wive, / Could I flocks and herds gain and of gold a bright store.
Awhile in green Eirin so pleasant I dwelt, / With her nobles I drank to whom music was dear; / Then left to myself, O how mournful I felt / At the close of my life, with no partner to cheer.
My sole joy and my comfort wast thou 'neath the sun, / Dark gloom, now I'm reft of thee, filleth my mind; / I shall know no more happiness now thou art gone, / O my Mary, of wit and of manners refin'd.