Is there one desires to hear
If within the shores of Eire
Eyes may still behold the scene
Far from Fand's enticements?

Let him seek the southern hills
And those lakes of loveliest water
Where the richest blooms of Spring
Burn to reddest Autumn:
And the clearest echo sings
Notes a goddess taught her.

Ah! 't was very long ago,
And the words are now denied her:
But the purple hillsides know
Still the tones delightsome,
And their breasts, impassioned, glow
As were Fand beside them.

And though many an isle be fair,
Fairer still is Innisfallen,
Since the hour Cuchullain lay
In the bower enchanted.
See! the ash that waves to-day.
Fand its grandsire planted.

When from wave to mountain-top
All delight thy sense bewilders,
Thou shalt own the wonders wrought
Once by her skilled fingers,
Still, though many an age be gone,
Round Killarney lingers.