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A New Song on the beauties

            OF THE

County Wicklow.

As an Irishman I love the spot,
That saw my birth and childhood,
For where's the spot so bless d by God,
With mountain, lake, and wildwood,
It is beautiful in every part,
Bedecked by nature's bounty ;
But the one that's nearest to my heart,
I'ts my own sweet Wicklow County.

From lovely Bray to Balti glass,
The Scalp to Tinehealy ;
Where are the slopes that can compare,
To the slopes of old Glenealy.
But grander still than those I've named
Is lofty Glendalure;                                           
And gloomy Glendalough, so famed,
Of old for literature.

Oh, grandest, fairest, most sublime,
To Avoca's sunny vale.
When sun's delay and fairies chime;
It's praises in the gale.
And onward roll, proud Avenmore,
Her kindred stream to meet ;
Then Avenberg with joyous roar,
Bound's forth her friends to greet.

How happy' tis to contemplate.
Those strains in union flow,
Alass, that our devided state,
Still causes all our woe;
But like Avoca's crystal streams,
We ll join to gain our light.
To share in those refulgent beams;
That gleams in freedom's light.

Home of my sires, the great O'Byernes,
My birth place dear to me,
Oh, when that day of hope returns,
I'il risk this life for thee,
But patently I will await,
The will of Heaven's bounty,
And night and day, I'll always pray;
For my own sweet Wicklow county.