The Magic Mist

The Magic Mist

Dread Bard out of Desmond deep vallied.
Whence comest thou chanting to night;
From thy brow to thy bosom death pallid.
Thine eyes like a seer`s starbright?
And whence, o`er thy guestseat allotted,
These strange, sudden eddies of air;
And why is the quickan flower clotted
Like foam in the flow of thy hair.

To and fro, in high thought on the mountains
I strode, in my singing robe green,
Where Mangerton, father of fountains,
Starts sternly from lovely Loch Lene;
When around me and under and o`er me.
Rang melody none may resist.
For rapture I swooned while beforeme
Earth faded in magical mist.

And there my dull body sank sleeping
`Neath quickans of quiv`ring sway;
My soul in her songrobe went sweeping
Where Cliona holds court o`er the fay.
The land where all tears are with smiling,
The land where all smiles are with tears;
Where years shrink to days of beguiling,
Days yearninto long, blessed years.

Arch minstrel of desmond, we dread thee,
Lest lifted tonight in our hall,
The spell of lone music that led thee
To Faery have fettered us all.
Nay, fear not! though Cliona be calling,
I only her clairseach obey.
To Earth the earthbody is falling,
The soul s

oars exultant away.