Verse > Anthologies > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. > Poems of Places > Ireland
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed.  Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Ireland: Vol. V.  1876–79.
 
Donegal
I Wish I Was by That Dim Lake
Thomas Moore (1779–1852)
 
          These verses are meant to allude to that ancient haunt of superstition, called Patrick’s Purgatory. “In the midst of these gloomy regions of Donegal (says Dr. Campbell) lay a lake, which was to become the mystic theatre of this fabled and intermediate state. In the lake were several islands; but one of them was dignified with that called the Mouth of Purgatory, which, during the Dark Ages, attracted the notice of all Christendom, and was the resort of penitents and pilgrims, from almost every country in Europe.”

I WISH I was by that dim lake
Where sinful souls their farewells take
Of this vain world, and half-way lie
In Death’s cold shadow, ere they die.
There, there, far from thee,        5
Deceitful world, my home should be,—
Where, come what might of gloom and pain,
False hope should ne’er deceive again!
 
The lifeless sky,—the mournful sound
Of unseen waters, falling round,—        10
The dry leaves quivering o’er my head,
Like man, unquiet even when dead,—
These, ay! these should wean
My soul from life’s deluding scene,
And turn each thought, each wish I have,        15
Like willows, downward towards the grave.
 
As they who to their couch at night
Would welcome sleep first quench the light,
So must the hopes that keep this breast
Awake be quenched, ere it can rest.        20
Cold, cold, my heart must grow,
Unchanged by either joy or woe,
Like freezing founts, where all that ’s thrown
Within their current turns to stone.
 
 
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