Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BROWN DRIMIN, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BROWN DRIMIN, by                    
First Line: "oh say, my brown drimin, thou silk of the kine"
Last Line: When the flint-hearted saxon they've chased far away
Subject(s): Cows;nationalism - Ireland


OH say, my brown Drimin, thou 'Silk of the Kine,'
Where, where are thy strong ones, last hope of thy line?
Too deep and too long is the slumber they take,
At the loud call of freedom why don't they awake?

My strong ones have fallen -- from the bright eye of day
All darkly they sleep in their dwelling of clay;
The cold turf is o'er them -- they hear not my cries,
And since Lewis no aid gives, I cannot arise.

Oh! where art thou, Lewis? our eyes are on thee --
Are thy lofty ships walking in strength o'er the sea?
In freedom's last strife, if you linger or quail,
No morn e'er shall break on the night of the Gael.

But should the King's son, now bereft of his right,
Come proud in his strength for his country to fight;
Like leaves on the trees, will new people arise,
And deep from their mountains shout back to my cries.

When the Prince, now an exile, shall come for his own,
The Isles of his father, his rights, and his throne,
My people in battle the Saxons will meet,
And kick them before, like old shoes from their feet.

O'er mountains and valleys they'll press on their rout,
The five ends of Erin shall ring to their shout;
My sons all united, shall bless the glad day
When the flint-hearted Saxon they've chased far away.





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