The children of Lir found, still wandering

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Silent, Oh Moyle
(the song of Fionnuala)

Thomas Moore

Silent, Oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water,
Break not ye breezes, your chain of repose;
While murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter
Tells to the night star her tale of woes.

When shall the swan, her death note singing
Sleep with wings in darkness furled?
When will heav'n, its sweet bells ringing,
Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, Oh Moyle, to thy crystal wave weeping
Fate bids me languish long ages away;
Yet still in the darkness doth Erin lie sleeping
Still doth the pure light its dawning delay!

When will the day-star mildly springing,
Warm our Isle with peace and love?
When will heav'n, its sweet bells ringing
Call my spirit to the fields above?



N.B: Bov Darg, king of the Tooha De Danaan has decreed that nobody shall kill a swan in Ireland. This law still stands.

The herald of free Willesden (from a secret location)