My thoughts, alas! are without strength; My spirit is journeying towards death; My eyes are as a frozen sea; My tears my daily food; There is nothing in my life but only misery; My poor heart is torn, And my thoughts are sharp wounds within me, Mourning the miserable state of Ireland, Without ease, without mirth for any person That is born on the plains of Emer. And here I give you the heavy story, And the tale of all the remnant of her deeds.
She lost her pomp and her strength together When her strong men were banished across the sea; Her churches are as holds of pain, Without altars, without Mass, without bowing of knees; Stables for horses--this story is pitiful-- Or without a stone of their stones together.
Since the children of Israel were in Egypt Under bondage, and scarcity along with that, There was never written in a book or never seen Hardship like the hardships in Ireland. They parted from us the shepherds of the flock That is the flock that is astray and is wounded, Left to be torn by wild dogs, And no healing for it from the hand of anyone. Unless God will look down on our distress Ireland will indeed be lost for ever! Every old man, every strong man, every child, Our young men and our well-dressed women, Keening, complaining, and reproaching; Going under the power of the Gall or going across the sea. Our dear country without any ears of corn, Without store, without cattle, but only the green grass; Our fatherless children are wasted and weak, Famine and sickness travelling over Ireland, And every other scourge that was ever known, And the rest of her pain has not yet been told.
Nevertheless, my sharp woe! I see with my eyes That the High King has a bow ready in His hand, And His quiver is full of arrows with sharp points, And every arrow of them for our sore wounding, From the sole of our feet to the top of our head, To bruise our hearts and to tear our sinews; There is no spot of our limbs but is scarred; Misfortune has come upon us all together-- The poor and the rich, the weak and the strong; The great lord by whom hundreds were maintained; The powerful strong man, and the man that holds the plough; And the cross laid on the bare shoulder of every man.