I will lift mine eyes to the mountains,
To the mountains whence cometh my aid;
I shall drink of the Mercy’s crystal fountains,
And shall not be afraid.
St. Patrick and St. Bride be with me,
And all the saints of the Gael;
The wings of Heaven above and beneath me,
The dead of Inisfail.
The caves of the mountains shall receive me,
I shall lie as at a mother’s breast
The white food the King of Heaven shall give me,
And the wine of Heaven for feast.
Where the eagle screams over Nephin,
Where the Reek of Patrick looks on the isles,
li-orn the voices of the world that fret and deafen,
From the evil in her smiles,
I shall creep, and the mountains will hold me,
As a lamb that runs with the ewe,
The warmth of the mother shall enfold me,
I shall have milk and dew.