 Unknown is wailing or treachery In the familiar cultivated land, There is nothing rough or harsh, But sweet music striking on the ear. Without grief, without sorrow, without death, Without any sickness, without debility, That is the sign of Emain —...  Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry - Page 31911 - 114 pagesFull view - About this book
 | Patricia King, Gina Sigillito, Sile Deady - Celts - 2004 - 228 pages
...to the Hours. Tis in harmony it is their wont To call together every Hour. Splendours of every color glisten Throughout the gentle-voiced plains. Joy is known, ranked around music, In southern Mag Argatnel. Unknown is wailing or treachery In the familiar cultivated land, There is nothing... | |
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