THE FLOWER OF SWEET BROUGHDONE
(A SONG)

You’ve seen the day star’s brightest beam,
When Spring her virgin sweets reveal,
Deep mirrored in the crystal steam,
Afar in yon sequestered vale.
But sweeter than the beam of day,
Or rainbow o’er the ocean thrown,
Is she who charms our valleys gay
The peerless flowret of Broghdone.

Her hair is like the curling mist
That spreads along the banks of Maine,
When crimson clouds adorn the west
And sparkling dew-drops cheer the plain.
As o’er the verdant lawn she strays,
Admiring Nature’s charms alone,
Each fragrant breeze delighted plays
Around the flower of sweet Broughdone.

Her eyes are like the stars we see
At midnight, in the frosty sky;
The moon-beam rippling o’er the sea,
With Nancy’s cheek could never vie!
May sorrow ne’er disturb her heart,
Nor aught but love to her be shown,
Whose smile can every joy impart,
The peerless flower of sweet Broughdone.

With her how gladly would I roam
The loneliest island of the sea,
Nor dream that death would ever come,
To part my long-loved maid and me.
Within the mansions of her breast
The rose of love was scarcely blown,
When all my joys were left to rest
With Nancy, flower of sweet Broughdone.

While Slemish or Slieve Gallin stands,
The pride of all the hills in view;
So long I’ll mind what love commands,
My virtuous maid, to live for you;
By yon clear stream where oft we strayed,
And heart to heart was fondly shown,
I’ll still caress my artless maid,
The peerless flower of sweet Broughdone.

David Herbison, Bard of Dunclug