A Walk in Belleek Woodlands

A Walk in Belleek Woodlands

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WHEN the moon shines bright,

In a flood of silv’ry light,

O’er Belleek’s woodlands green;

’Tis pleasant there to rove,

Along with those you love,

Through its lawns of verdant green.

When the Sun’s sparkling rays,

With warbling songster’s lays,

Entrancing charms combine;

How pleasant in these genial bow’rs,

To pass life’s flick’ring hours,

Thinking o’er scenes so fine.

Oh! what a rural Paradise is this,

Amid such a scene of sylvan bliss!

Beauty’s soul enrapturing charms

Here doth lounge and move;

Bewitching more than in Castilian grove

Where scorching sun each hour warms.

Yet have I seen in by-gone days,

When walking in innocence’s ways,

Along the Moy’s enchanting shore—

When whin and fern closter’d rose,

Where blooms Arbutus and Rose,

Such is thy triumph Colonel Gore.

Had each pamper’d, vile, absentee,

Discharged public duties like to thee,

And rais’d on Erin’s hills proud monument;

This land on which Heaven benightly sheds,

Like evening dew on orient flower-beds,

Its fragrance, wouldn’t know its present discontents.

                                     William Kearney

Ballina, 27th August, 1850.