Luyện nghe bài hát The Exile Of Erin / Air: I Mo Sheasamh Ar An Tra (As I Stand On The Beach)

THERE to the beach a poor exile of Erin.
The dew on his thin robe was and chill;
For his country he sighed, when at reparing.
To wander alone by the hill.
But the attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
once in the fire of his youthful emotion,
He sang the anthem of Erin-go-Bragh.

"Sad is my fate!" said the heart-broken :
The and wolf to a convert can flee.
But I have no refuge from and danger-
A and a country remain not to me.
again, in the green sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers lived, I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my with the wild-women flower,
And to the numbers of Erin-go-Bragh.

"Erin, my ! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I thy sea beaten shore:
But ! in a far foreign land I awaken,
And sigh for the friends who can me no more
O! cruel ! wilt thou never replace me
In a mansion of peace no perils can chase me?
Never again shall my brothers me.
They died to me, or live to deplore.

"Where is my cabin door, by the wild wood?
Sisters and sire, did you weep for its
is the mother that looked on my childhood?
And where is the bosom friend than all?
O! my sad heart! abandoned by pleasure,
Why did it dote on fast-fading
Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall measure,
But and beauty they cannot recall.

"Yet all its sad suppressing,
One wish my lone bosom can draw
Erin! an bequeaths thee his blessing!
of my forefathers. Erin-go-Bragh!
Buried and cold, my heart stills its motion,
be thy fields, sweetest Isle of the ocean!
And thy harp-striking bards aloud with devotion,
Mavourneen! Erin-go-Bragh."