A Mha̸rgha̸iria̸d Brún, is dúbhách do fhágbháis mé,
Mo Luízhe's an n-uáigh 's gán cúmhdách mná orm féin,
Fuil 'z szkóíleadh dhamh-sa A d-túis A's « n-deireadh
gách lé,

A's < Inghín Mheic Yuíbhne, « rúin dhil, tártha̸igh mé.

Ghlukiseks 'núnn dár liom fá 'n tráth-so « n-dé,
FK'n 3-coill chroím, zo cinnte b' árd mo léim ;
Mo leabhra̸n grúnn Kg ínnsin fáth gách sgéil,
Is eagal liom gur mhíll do ghrádh-sa̸ me.

'sí Már'iad an Kindeúr shéímh is chóíne glór,

Is binne béul 'ná zurh na d-téud A's 'ná ná fígh

cheóil,

PEGGY BROWNE.1

BY THOMAS FURLONG.

Oh! dark! sweetest girl, are my days doom'd to be, heart bleeds in silence and sorrow for thee:

While

my

In the green spring of life to the grave I go down,
Oh! shield me and save me, my lov'd Peggy Browne.

I dreamt, that at evening my footsteps were bound,

To yon deep spreading wood where the shades fall around;

I sought, 'midst new scenes, all my sorrows to drown,

But the cure of my sorrow rests with thee, Peggy

Browne.

'Tis soothing, sweet maid, thy soft accents to hear,

For, like wild fairy music, they melt on the ear-1

Thy breast is as fair as the swan's clothed in down;

Oh! peerless, and faultless, is my own Peggy Browne,

Is gile táobh ná án eálá shéimh théidheánn Kir linn zách

'Gus A mhaiseach, bhéusách, zhástá, thréidhtheách ná

diúltKidh mé.

dul eadar an dáir sá eroiceánn, 'sé mheásáim gur cruadh an céim,

Dul eadar mé Agus rúin-sheGre Agus grádh mo chléibh, Alip chup mo lamh tháirsi Kir maidin le bánúghadh an láé

Fuáir mé an stáráídhe dubh Ag zleckídheacht le gradh mo chuim.

Dear! dear is the bark, to its own cherish'd tree,

But dearer, far dearer, is my lov'd one to me :

In any dreams I draw near her, uncheck'd by a frown,

But my arms, spread in vain to embrace Peggy Browne.