88
A SKETCH OF CONNEMARA.
To Roundstone now our way we take,
O'er mountain moor and lonely lake,
Where the wild-fowl rear their broods,
In these romantic solitudes.
O, that the food earth, sea, and sky
For man's subsistence here supply
By starving thousands were enjoyed,
Who of those comforts are devoid!
O, that these vast unpeopled plains,
Where so much native beauty reigns,—
Neglected spots of Erin's isle,—
Were decked with culture's cheerful smile!
But I must hasten to conclude
My ramble through these regions rude,
Lest I my kind friends' patience tire,
A prospect which I don't admire.
But should they on some future day
Again desire with me to stray,
Perchance my humble Muse once more
May Connemara's wilds explore.
O'er mountain moor and lonely lake,
Where the wild-fowl rear their broods,
In these romantic solitudes.
O, that the food earth, sea, and sky
For man's subsistence here supply
By starving thousands were enjoyed,
Who of those comforts are devoid!
O, that these vast unpeopled plains,
Where so much native beauty reigns,—
Neglected spots of Erin's isle,—
Were decked with culture's cheerful smile!
But I must hasten to conclude
My ramble through these regions rude,
Lest I my kind friends' patience tire,
A prospect which I don't admire.
But should they on some future day
Again desire with me to stray,
Perchance my humble Muse once more
May Connemara's wilds explore.
