Monday, August 29, 2011

446. Aughrim

Around, around, around,
Sweet Billy boy, dear Billy:
The fires come rising in the West
Na tinte ag ardú in Iarthar.
And I must sleep and go to rest,
Sweet Billy, darlin’ Billy.

The sound, the sound,
Of the pipes come sweetly calling:
Over Ballykelly and Glenmatyre
Milis thagann ardú ar an aer.
Sleep, sleep by the campfire,
Billy, O sweet Billy.

Our hopes are fading, falling,
Your father looks not well:
Your sisters keep unto their room
Bogadh ón am atá caite ar an todhchaí
A dagger will hasten on their doom
If your army fails us, Billy Boy.

The shades are falling, calling,
Down from the mountains, Billy:
No more do the wild trumpets ring
Sin le bás in Éirinn ina ghlóir … onóir!
We have lost again, lost everything,
Sweet Billy, Oh … sweet Billy!

Battle of Aughrim

Gaelic lines in the poem, by stanza:

1. The fires (come) rising in the west.
2. Sounds rise gently in the air.
3. We drift along from past to future.
4. Dying for Ireland is a glory … an honour.