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Tír na nÓg – 1900

A Reading Book in Irish History P.W.Joyce LLD – One of the Commissioners for the Publication of the Ancient Laws of Ireland

Ossian  François Pascal Simon Gérard Wikimedia Commons

Ossian
François Pascal Simon Gérard
Wikimedia Commons

Longmans, Green and Co. London, New York and Bombay. Dubln: M.H. Gill and Son 1900

 

THE CHANT OF THE FAIRY TO CONNLA OF THE GOLDEN HAIR.abridged

A land of youth, a land of rest, a land from sorrow free;
It lies far off in the golden west, on the verge of the azure sea.
A swift canoe of crystal bright, that never met mortal view
We shall reach the land ere fall of night, in that strong and swift canoe:
We shall reach the strand of that sunny land From druids and demons free;
The land of rest, in the golden west, on the verge of the azure sea!

A pleasant land of winding vales, bright streams, and verdurous plains,
Where summer, all the live-long year, in changeless splendour reigns;
A peaceful land of calm delight, of everlasting bloom;
Old age and death we never know, no sickness, care, or gloom;
The land of youth, of love and truth,From pain and sorrow free;
The land of rest, in the golden west, on the verge of the azure sea!

There are strange delights for mortal men in that island of the west;
The sun comes down each evening in its lovely vales to rest:
And though far and dim on the ocean’s rim, it seems to mortal view,
We shall reach its halls ere the evening falls, in my strong and swift canoe;
And ever more that verdant shore our happy home shall be;
The land of rest, in the golden west, on the verge of the azure sea!

It will guard thee, gentle Connla of the flowing golden hair,
It will guard thee from the druids, from the demons of the air;
My crystal boat will guard thee, till we reach that western shore,
Where thou and I in joy and love shall live for evermore:
From the druid’s incantation, from his black and deadly snare,
From the withering imprecation of the demon of the air,
It will guard thee, gentle Connla of the flowing golden hair;

My crystal boat will guard thee, till we reach that silver strand,
Where thou shalt reign in endless joy, the king of the Fairy-land!

From “Old Celtic Romances,” by P. W. Joyce, LL.D.

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