| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Jeremiah Joseph Callanan. 1795–1839 |
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638. The Outlaw of Loch Lene
FROM THE IRISH |
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| O MANY a day have I made good ale in the glen, | |
| That came not of stream or malt, like the brewing of men: | |
| My bed was the ground; my roof, the green-wood above; | |
| And the wealth that I sought, one far kind glance from my Love. | |
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| Alas! on that night when the horses I drove from the field, | 5 |
| That I was not near from terror my angel to shield! | |
| She stretch'd forth her arms; her mantle she flung to the wind, | |
| And swam o'er Loch Lene, her outlaw'd lover to find. | |
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| O would that a freezing sleet-wing'd tempest did sweep, | |
| And I and my love were alone, far off on the deep; | 10 |
| I'd ask not a ship, or a bark, or a pinnace, to save— | |
| With her hand round my waist, I'd fear not the wind or the wave. | |
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| 'Tis down by the lake where the wild tree fringes its sides, | |
| The maid of my heart, my fair one of Heaven resides: | |
| I think, as at eve she wanders its mazes among, | 15 |
| The birds go to sleep by the sweet wild twist of her song. | |
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