The Exile of Erin

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 eye's sad devotion;

For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,

Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,

He sung the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.

"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.

"Never again in the green sunny bowers,

"Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours;

"Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers,

"And strike to the numbers of Erin-go-bragh.