Slioċt Duanaire Gaeḋilge / Specimens from an Irish Anthology

Pádraic Mac Piarais, P. H. Pearse
1911 The Irish Review (Dublin)  
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more » ... ed from 138.253.100.121 on Fri, 18 Dec 2015 17:27:07 UTC All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions AN IRISH ANTHOLOGY O fair-haired Donough, dear little brother, Well do I know what has taken you from me, Drinking the cup and reddening the pipe, And walking the dew in the dead of night. And you, Mullane, ill-omened scourge, No calf of a false cow was my brother, But a tight comely little lad on hill and hillock Who would draw a sound soft and sweet from a hurley ! And 0 fair-haired Donough, is it not the pity, And how well you would carry spurs and boots! I might put fashionable clothes on you of the most lasting cloth And send you abroad as a gentleman's son. May your sons, Mullane, never gather together, Nor your daughters ever ask you for dowry !-The two ends of the table are empty, and the floor crowded, And fair-haired Donough, my little brother, laid out. The dowry of fair-haired Donough is coming home, And it is not kine, sheep, or horses, But tobacco and pipes and white candles,
doi:10.2307/30062665 fatcat:lfqgnzonlraszjve3utwu6t3va