Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/118

But the bride she bowed her golden head,
And she sighed. “O would that I were dead,
Since my false love I may never wed!”
Ah, that her love were true!

The tears flowed quick from her drooping eyes,
0, but her cheeks were pale!
And she gave her gentle breast to sighs.
Low did she weep and wail.
“When my haughty sire your suit denied
You swore to make me still your bride.
All brave you stood and his rage defied.”
Alack that trust should fail!

But the little page he mocked and jeered,
Gay was the song he sung,
And he plucked the old man by the beard,
0, but his heart was young!
And he pulled right hard in youthful play
Till he plucked the beggar's beard away,
And there stood Shaun of Dun Clonleigh.
Full loud his laughter rung.

And there stood Shaun, all so good to see.
Now let the joy-bells chime.
Of Irish manhood full six-foot-three.
Love brings the summer clime.
And when this pother the King did know,
He out from the church did furious go,
And he bade his smiling Queen also.
Spring is the mating time.

And by them quick went the Prince so proud.
The hawk ts flying by.
His face was like the grey thunder-cloud.
Hark to the lost lamb's cry!
He flung himself on his chafing steed,
And rode away at his utmost speed,
And no good wish did he make, or deed.
The shepherd's arm is nigh.