Fourtyeighth

You'll have to read this with a bit o'an Irish accent.

The Incantation - by Amergin - translated by George Sigerson

Fain we ask Erinn,

Faring o'er ocean's

Motions to mountains,

Fountains and bowers,

Showers, rills rushing,

Gushing waves welling,

Swelling streams calling,

Falling foam-thunder,

Under lakes filling:

Willing- (abiding

Riding rounds, holding

Olden fairs meetly)-

Fleet to lift loyal

Royal king's towers,

Bowers for crowning;

Frowning foes over-

Rover Mil's warlike

Starlike sons therein.

Erinn shall longer,

Stronger, show honour,

On our Milesians.-

Wishing, in trouble,

Noble isle's wooing,

Suing, we stay here;-

Pray here to sail in,

Wailing maids royal!

Loyal chief-leaders,

Pleaders, blend pray'r in.

So we seek Erinn-

That's from a book I just aquired called "1000 Years of Irish Poetry" edited by Kathleen Hoagland. And seeing as though I have Irish blood in me, I only thought it suitable. I'll probably through one in every once in a while. And just to be clear, this is yesterday's post. I'll post today's post later.