Jeremiah Joseph Callanan
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The Outlaw Of Loch Lene, From The Irish
O MANY a day have I made good ale in the glen,
That came not of stream or malt, like the brewing of men:
My bed was the ground; my roof, the green-wood above;
And the wealth that I sought, one far kind glance from my Love.
Alas! on that night when the horses I drove from the field,
That I was not near from terror my angel to shield!
She stretch'd forth her arms; her mantle she flung to the wind,
And swam o'er Loch Lene, her outlaw'd lover to find.
O would that a freezing sleet-wing'd tempest did sweep,
And I and my love were alone, far off on the ...