Irish Boatman's Hymn. From the Irish. Miscellaneous. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. 1876-79. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes. Ireland: Vol. V

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Ireland: Vol. V. 1876–79.

Miscellaneous

Irish Boatman’s Hymn

From the Irish


Translated by Samuel Ferguson BARK that bear me through foam and squall,
You in the storm are my castle wall:
Though the sea should redden from bottom to top,
From tiller to mast she takes no drop;
On the tide-top, the tide-top,	5
Wherry aroon, my land and store!
On the tide-top, the tide-top,
She is the boat can sail go leor. 1

She dresses herself, and goes gliding on,
Like a dame in her robes of the Indian lawn;	10
For God has blessed her, gunnel and wale,
And O, if you saw her stretch out to the gale,
On the tide-top, on the tide-top, etc.

Whillan, 2 ahoy! old heart of stone,
Stooping so black o’er the beach alone,	15
Answer me well,—on the bursting brine
Saw you ever a bark like mine?
On the tide-top, the tide-top, etc.

Says Whillan, “Since first I was made of stone,
I have looked abroad o’er the beach alone,	20
But till to-day, on the bursting brine,
Saw I never a bark like thine,”
On the tide-top, on the tide-top, etc.

“God of the air!” the seamen shout,
When they see us tossing the brine about:	25
“Give us the shelter of strand or rock,
Or through and through us she goes with a shock!”
On the tide-top, the tide-top,
Wherry aroon, my land and store,
On the tide-top, the tide-top,	30
She is the boat can sail go leor!

Note 1. Abundantly well. [back]

Note 2. A rock on the shore near Blacksod Harbor. [back]