JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN

My own Rosaleen ! O, there was lightning in my blood. Red lightning lighten'd thro* my blcod.

My Dark Rosaleen !

All day long, in unrest,

To and fro, do I move. The very soul within my breast

Is wasted for you, love ! The heart in my bosom faints

To think of you, my Queen, My life of life, my saint of saints,

My Dark Rosaleen!

My own Rosaleen !

To hear your sweet and sad complaints, My life, my love, my saint of saints,

My Dark Rosaleen!

Woe and pain, pain and woe,

Are my lot, night and noon, To see your bright face clouded so,

Like to the mournful moon. But yet will I rear your throne

Again in golden sheen ; 'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone,

My Dark Rosaleen!

My own Rosaleen ! 'Tis you shall have the golden throne, 'Tis you shall reign, and reign alone,

My Dark Rosaleen!

Over dews, over sands,

Will I fly, for your weal : Your holy delicate white hands

Shall girdle me with steel.

�� �