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Lines on Carrig Rock
And lend to me sweet poetry, less critics keen may mock, Those simple lines which I compile, for Carrig's stately Rock. The subject of my verses is well worthy of esteem, And with poetic beauty abundantly doth teem, Commands a view of sweet Tervoe, and Limerick's ship crowned Dock, While the lordly Shannon sweeps below, the base of Carrig Rock. From its lofty top no objects stop your view for miles around, Where natures lavish beauties luxuriantly abound, The meadows green below are seen, and the rick and roaming stock, Where the Maigues deep bed, a silver thread, flows on by Carrig Rock.
Its scenery you'd love to see on a summer evening fair
When the golden sun sinks down to rest, on Shannon's bosom fair,
Its coverts teem with various game, the pheasant, hare and cock,
And rabbits quick, are very thick, round Carrig's stately Rock.
It is for sport the famed resort, for youths from far and near,
And on its ivied ramparts, every Sabbath you can hear,
The violin sound, while pressing round, youths and maidens flock,
To sport and play the live long day, round Carrig's stately Rock.
And now that I am leaving you, sweet Carrig fare thee well,
Farewell to you oh sweet Tervoe, your every vale and dell,
If the muse to me her treasury of verses would unlock,
I'd give its due to sweet Tervoe, and Carrig's stately Rock.
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An Emigrant's Farewell to Carrig and Corcamore
Scenes of my youth with a heart overflowing,
I stand for the last time amid your gay flowers,
To think with devotion and tender emotion,
Of childhood and boyhood, those bright sunny hours,
To view with affection and fond recollection,
E're I'm parted forever from Erin's loved shore,
The heart thrilling scenes spread in every direction
Of fair verdant Carrig and sweet Corcamore.
Ah here 'mid those scenes I have gazed with emotion,
Till the soft tears of sadness bedewed my young cheek,
When I thought that e're long I shall cross the broad ocean
In far-off Columbia my fortune to seek.
And when far from dear Erin my barge shall be steering
And I shall be feeling I'll ne're see you more,
I'll say with emotion and tender devotion,
"Fare-you well verdant Carrig and sweet Corcamore".
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And when by Columbia's broad rivers I wander,
With love for old Ireland still fresh in my heart;
Of the home of my youth every hour growing fonder,
Dim visions of Carrig's bright beauties still start,
And if ever a fond mingled sadness steals o'er me,
I'll think of my childhood 'mid valley and wildwood,
And bless verdant Carrig and sweet Corcamore.
Then farewell to your bowers happy scenes of my childhood,
The land of the stranger must now be my home,
Adieu to those loved haunts in valley and wildwood,
Where oft my young footsteps did wantonly roam,
And when neath the sod of the stranger I'm sleeping,
Perhaps from dear Erin some friends may sail o'er,
Who'd plant o'er my grave, amid sighing and weeping,
A shamrock from Carrig or sweet Corcamore.
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