Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 4 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 724 pages of information about Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 4.

Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 4 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 724 pages of information about Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 4.

Loyal and brave to you,
Soggarth Aroon,
Yet be no slave to you,
Soggarth Aroon,
Nor out of fear to you
Stand up so near to you—­
Och! out of fear to you!
Soggarth Aroon!

Who, in the winter’s night,
Soggarth Aroon,
When the cowld blast did bite,
Soggarth Aroon,
Came to my cabin door,
And on my earthen floor
Knelt by me, sick and poor,
Soggarth Aroon?

Who, on the marriage day,
Soggarth Aroon,
Made the poor cabin gay,
Soggarth Aroon;
And did both laugh and sing,
Making our hearts to ring,
At the poor christening,
Soggarth Aroon?

Who, as friend only met,
Soggarth Aroon,
Never did flout me yet,
Soggarth Aroon? 
And when my hearth was dim
Gave, while his eye did brim,
What I should give to him,
Soggarth Aroon?

Och! you, and only you,
Soggarth Aroon! 
And for this I was true to you,
Soggarth Aroon;
In love they’ll never shake
When for ould Ireland’s sake
We a true part did take,
Soggarth Aroon!

[Illustration:  THE IRISH MAIDEN’S SONG. Photogravure from a Painting by E. Hebert.]

THE IRISH MAIDEN’S SONG

You know it now—­it is betrayed
This moment in mine eye,
And in my young cheeks’ crimson shade,
And in my whispered sigh. 
You know it now—­yet listen now—­
Though ne’er was love more true,
My plight and troth and virgin vow
Still, still I keep from you,
Ever!

Ever, until a proof you give
How oft you’ve heard me say,
I would not even his empress live
Who idles life away,
Without one effort for the land
In which my fathers’ graves
Were hollowed by a despot hand
To darkly close on slaves—­
Never!

See! round yourself the shackles hang,
Yet come you to love’s bowers,
That only he may soothe their pang
Or hide their links in flowers—­
But try all things to snap them first,
And should all fail when tried,
The fated chain you cannot burst
My twining arms shall hide—­
Ever!

THEODORE DE BANVILLE

(1823-1891)

Theodore Faullain De Banville is best known as a very skillful maker of polished artificial verse.  His poetry stands high; but it is the poetry not of nature, but of elegant society.  His muse, as Mr. Henley says, is always in evening dress.  References to the classic poets are woven into all of his descriptions of nature.  He is distinguished, scholarly, full of taste, and brilliant in execution; never failing in propriety, and never reaching inspiration.  As an artist in words and cadences he has few superiors.

[Illustration:  De Banville]

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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 4 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.