Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

143
his soul.
For though sweet are the bells that ring out from the tall campanili of
Rome,
Ah! they are not the dearer and sweeter ones, tuned with the memory of
home.
So leaving proud Rome and fair Tivoli, southward the old man must stray,
'Till he reaches the Eden of waters that sparkle in Napoli's bay:
He sees not the blue waves of Baiae, nor Ischia's summits of brown,
He sees but the high campanili that rise o'er each far-gleaming town.
Driven restlessly onward, he saileth away to the bright land of Spain,
And seeketh thy shrine, Santiago, and stands by the western main.
A bark bound for Erin lay waiting, he entered like one in a dream;
Fair winds in the full purple sails led him soon to the Shannon's broad
stream.
'Twas an evening that Florence might envy, so rich was the lemon-hued
air,
As it lay on lone Scattery's island, or lit the green mountains of
Clare;
The wide-spreading old giant river rolled his waters as smooth and as
still
As if Oonagh, with all her bright nymphs, had come down from the far
fairy hill,[98]
To fling her enchantments around on the mountains, the air, and the
tide,
And to soothe the worn heart of the old man who looked from the dark
vessel's side.
Borne on the current the vessel glides smoothly but swiftly away,
By Carrigaholt, and by many a green sloping headland and bay,
'Twixt Cratloe's blue hills and green woods, and the soft sunny shores
of Tervoe,
And now the fair city of Limerick spreads out on the broad bank below;
Still nearer and nearer approaching, the mariners look o'er the town,
The old man sees nought but St. Mary's square tower, with its
battlements brown.
He listens--as yet all is silent, but now, with a sudden surprise,
A rich peal of melody rings from that tower through the clear evening
skies!