There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin; The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill, For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill: But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion, For it rose on his own native isle of the ocean. Where once, in the flow of his youthful emotion, He sung the bold anthem of Erin Go Bragh.
Oh! sad is my fate! (said the heart-broken stranger) The wild deer and wolf to a cover can flee; But I have no refuge from famine and danger! A home and a country remain not to me! Ah! never again in the green sunny bow'rs, Where my forefathers liv'd, shall I spend the sweet hours! Or cover my harp with the wild woven flow'rs! And strike to the numbers of Erin Go Bragh!
Erin! my country, tho sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore; But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken, And sign for the friend that can meet me no more! Ah! cruel Fate! will thou never replace me, In a mansion of peace, where no peril can chase me? Ah! never again shall my brothers embrace me! They dy'd do defend me, or live to deplore.
Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood? Sisters and fire, do ye weep for its fall? Where is the mother that look d on my childhood? And where is the bosom-friend dearer than all? Ah! my sad soul! long abandon'd by pleasure, Why did it doat on a fast-fading treasure? Tears like the rain-drop may fall without measure, But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.
But yet all its fond recollection surpassing, One dying wish my fond bosom shall draw; Erin an exile bequeaths thee his blessing, Land of my forefathers, Erin Go Bragh.
Buried and cold when my heart stills its motion, Green be thy fields, sweet isle of the Ocean! And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion Erin ma Vourneen Erin Go Bragh.
