Young Lochinvar (1)/The Rose of Dunmore

THE ROSE OF DUNMORE.

As I went a walking out early,
Bright Phœbus most sweetly did shine,
And the nightingale warbled melodious,
As the lusin that falls from the glen.
It’s down thro’ a grove where I walked,
A while to condole in a shade,
On my ⟨destiny⟩ for to ponder,
It’s ⟨there⟩ I beheld a sweet maid.

I cast forth my eyes for to view,
And thus unto her I did say,
You fair has my heart ensnared,
How far through the grove dost thou stray?
She answered, sir, I will tell you,
The truth unto you I’ll explore,
Of a matter ⟨that⟩ lately befel me,
My dwelling lies near Dunmore.

Once I did love a brave hero,
Till my tender heart he did gain,
No mortal ever lov’d dearer,
But now he is ploughing the main,
All under brave Nelson for battle,
And our English Navy so brave,
Where cannons and guns loudly rattle,
Against the proud French on the main.

He says, now my fair, so ensnaring,
Perhaps your true love he is slain,
As many a man fell a victim,
And fell by the French on the main;
So it might happen with your love,
As it hath done with many before,
I pray come with me to Rathfriland,
And bid a farewell to Dunmore.

How could I be thus so inconstant,
And promised so much to be true,
To leave my old sweetheart lamenting,
And venture all fortune with you;
The people would call me hard-hearted,
For fidelity to him I’ve swore,
That our loves should never be parted,
But wait for the youth in Dunmore.

Since it is so now decreed,
That I now a victim must fall,
I cannot refrain now but mourn,
Tho’ I am no better at all.
I still live in expectation,
Of that charming youth I adore,
I hope to my great consolation,
To meet him with joy in Dunmore.

Cheeks like the fair beauties blown,
Your summer will soon be o’er,
October winds will be blown,
And blast the sweet rose of Dunmore.
I found that her heart was failing,
As many had done before;
I hoist up my sails for Rathfriland,
And gained the sweet rose of Dunmore.