Raftery's Praise Of Mary Hynes

Going to Mass by the will of God, the day came wet and the wind rose; I met Mary Hynes at the cross of Kiltartan, and I fell in love with her there and then.

I spoke to her kind and mannerly, as by report was her own way; and she said "Raftery my mind is easy; you may come to-day to Ballylee."

When I heard her offer I did not linger; when her talk went to my heart my heart rose. We had only to go across the three fields; we had daylight with us to Ballylee.

The table was laid with glasses and a quart measure; she had fair hair and she sitting beside me; and she said, "Drink, Raftery, and a hundred welcomes; there is a strong cellar in Ballylee."

O star of light and O sun in harvest; O amber hair, O my share of the world! Will you come with me on the Sunday, till we agree together before all the people?

I would not begrudge you a song every Sunday evening; punch on the table or wine if you would drink it. But O King of Glory, dry the roads before me till I find the way to Ballylee.

There is sweet air on the side of the hill, when you are looking down upon Ballylee; when you are walking in the valley picking nuts and blackberries, there is music of the birds in it and music of the Sidhe.

What is the worth of greatness till you have the light of the flower of the branch that is by your side? There is no good to deny it or to try and hide it; she is the sun in the heavens who wounded my heart.

There was no part in Ireland I did not travel, from the rivers to the tops of the mountains; to the edge of Lough Greine whose mouth is hidden, and I saw no beauty but was behind hers. Her hair was shining and her brows were shining too; her face was like herself, her mouth pleasant and sweet; She is the pride and I give her the branch; she is the shining flower of Ballylee.

It is Mary Hynes, the calm and easy woman, has beauty in her mind and in her face. If a hundred clerks were gathered together, they could not write down a half of her ways.

Isabella Augusta, Lady Gregory

Isabella Augusta, Lady Gregory was an Irish dramatist, folklorist, and theatre manager. She co-founded the Irish Literary Theatre and the Abbey Theatre and wrote numerous short works for both companies. She was a central figure in the Irish Literary Revival and notably a mentor and friend to prominent Irish writers such as W. B. Yeats. Her collected writings include plays, folklore collections, and many translations of Irish language dramas. Her works remain significant in the context of early 20th-century Irish literature.

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English

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My Mary, O my Mary!
The simmer-skies are blue;
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An' the gloamin' brings the dew, -
The mirk o' nicht the glory
O' the moon, an' kindles, too,
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Where is it, O my Mary,
Ye are biding a' the while?
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An' up an' down the river
I ha' won for mony a mile,
Yet never found, adrift or drown'd,
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Is it forgot, my Mary,
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The simmer-time when bonny bloomed
The auld trysting-tree, -
How there I carved the name for you,
An' you the name for me;
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When we kissed sae tenderly.

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    She is the sky of the sun,
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    As the sun is above the moon.

    Lovely and airy the view from the hill
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How beautiful the summer night
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When moon and stars are shining bright
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Then Mary Bayfield seeks the glen,
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Dear is the dewdrop to the flower,
The old wall to the weary bee,
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And ivy to the stooping tree.
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I.

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II.

Poor is her diet, and hardly she lies--
Yet a monarch might kneel for a glance of her eyes.
The child of a peasant--yet England's proud Queen
Has less rank in her heart, and less grace in her mien.


III.

Her brow 'neath her raven hair gleams, just as if
A breaker spread white 'neath a shadowy cliff--
And love, and devotion, and energy speak
From her beauty-proud eye, and her passion-pale cheek.


IV.

But, pale as her cheek is, there's fruit on her lip,
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