Poems (Frances Elizabeth Browne)/A sketch of Connemara
A SKETCH OF CONNEMARA,A ROMANTIC DISTRICT IN THE WEST OF IRELAND.
Come, my friends, in fancy climb
Binnabola's heights sublime!
See their frowning summits vie,
Proudly towering to the sky.
Now behold yon darkening cloud
Their stately majesty enshroud;
Now dispersed and chased away
By the sun's enlivening ray,
Soon emerging to the view,
Clothed with every varied hue,
Chameleon tints of green and blue.
Binnabola's heights sublime!
See their frowning summits vie,
Proudly towering to the sky.
Now behold yon darkening cloud
Their stately majesty enshroud;
Now dispersed and chased away
By the sun's enlivening ray,
Soon emerging to the view,
Clothed with every varied hue,
Chameleon tints of green and blue.
Now turn we where fair Clifden stands,
And many a pleasing scene commands;
But no description can convey
How picturesque her church and bay;
Nor can we greater justice do
Her castle and its beauties, too.
But come, all ye who love the roar
Where wild, impetuous torrents pour;
See that frail bridge sustain the shock
Of waters dashed from rock to rock.
Collecting from the neighbouring hills,
The flood the very arches fills,
And, foaming down the craggy steep,
Forms eddying whirlpools vast and deep.
Yet here the daring trout can leap,
And, darting through the foam and spray,
Unharmed, pursue their venturous way.
But see, in treacherous mazes set,
Yon fisher throws the wily net,
And cautiously conceals the snare
Beneath the rock, with jealous care,
Just where the angry waters boil,
And thus secures the finny spoil.
And many a pleasing scene commands;
But no description can convey
How picturesque her church and bay;
Nor can we greater justice do
Her castle and its beauties, too.
But come, all ye who love the roar
Where wild, impetuous torrents pour;
See that frail bridge sustain the shock
Of waters dashed from rock to rock.
Collecting from the neighbouring hills,
The flood the very arches fills,
And, foaming down the craggy steep,
Forms eddying whirlpools vast and deep.
Yet here the daring trout can leap,
And, darting through the foam and spray,
Unharmed, pursue their venturous way.
But see, in treacherous mazes set,
Yon fisher throws the wily net,
And cautiously conceals the snare
Beneath the rock, with jealous care,
Just where the angry waters boil,
And thus secures the finny spoil.
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.