Ermeline
Ermeline
a ballad
Book Excerpt
h chill and drear the prospect round,
Delight and joy are not unknown;
O who would e’er expect to hear
’Mid mountain bogs the cuckoo’s tone?
O who display a mien full fair,
A wonder each to look upon?
And who in every household care
Defy compare below the sun?
And who make mad each sprightly lad?
The maids of county Merion.
O fair the salmon in the flood,
That over golden sands doth run;
And fair the thrush in his abode,
That spreads his wings in gladsome fun;
More beauteous look, if truth be spoke,
The maids of county Merion.
Dear to the little birdies wild
Their freedom in the forest lone;
Dear to the little sucking child
The nurse’s breast it hangs upon;
Though long I wait, I ne’er can state
How dear to me is Merion.
Sweet in the house the Telyn’s {23} strin
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