| lyric | The Summer sun is falling soft
On Carbry’s hundred isles
The summer sun is gleaming still
Thro’ Grabriel’s rough defiles
Old Inisherkin’s crumbled fane
Looks like a mopulting bird;
And in a calm and sleepy swell
The ocean tide is heard.
The hookers lie upon the beach;
The children cease their play;
The gossips leave their little inn,
The households kneel to pray
And full of love and peace and rest
Its daily labour o’er
Upon that cose creek there lay
The town of Baltimore.
A deeper rest, a starry trance,
Has come with midnight there;
No sound, except that throbbing wave,
In earth, or sea, or air.
The massive capes and ruined towers,
Seem conscious of the calm;
The fibrous sod and stunted trees
Are breathing heavy balm.
So still the night, these two long barques
Round Dunashad that glide,
Must trust their ears - methinks not few -
Against the ebbing tide;
Oh! some sweet mission of true love
Must urge them to the shore -
They bring some lover to his bride
Who sighs in Baltimore.
All, all asleep within each roof
Along that rocky street,
And these must be the lover’s friends
With gentle gliding feet -
A stifled gasp! a dreamy noise
‘The roof is in a flame!’From out their beds, and to their doors,
Rush maid and sire and dame.
And meet, upon the threshold Stone,
The gleaming sabre fall,
And o’er each black and bearded face,
The white or crimson shawl -
The yell of ‘Allah!’ breaks above,
The pray’r and shriek, and roar -
O blessed God! the Algerine
Is lord of Baltimore! |