Gaily the milkmaid came tripping along; The echoes so loved her, they joined in her song; The hare and the wild-roe that browsed in the glade, The bird on the bough swinging high over-head-- They saw and they heard, but they feared not--they KNEW the milkmaid. Abundant her tresses, bright golden their hue; And soft as a dove's was her eye in its blue; Elastic her footstep, and lightsome and free As a fawn's when in gladness it skips o'er the lea-- Of the old and the young the delight, and the pride of Glentallon was she. In secret she met with the Hunter in Green, Beside the lone fountain of Coirre-na-Sheen; A gallant more gay ne'er did maiden behold, His manner so gentle, his bearing so bold; By his side freely dangled, and well could he wind it, a bugle of gold! Full fondly he kissed her--she thought it no sin, Though she knew not his name, nor his kith, nor his kin; They plighted their troth by the fount's bubbling stream, Where oft, it is said, when frail mortals but dream, The fairies hold revel, and trippingly dance in the moon's mellow beam. On the Eve of St. Agnes the maiden confessed, As was proper she should, all her sins to the priest; When she left him, the blush in her check mantled high; There was care in her step, and a tear in her eye. Yet pure was the maiden and spotless, I ween, as a star in the blue of the sky. Next day, by the fountain of Coirre-na-Sheen, The milkmaid again met the Hunter in Green. As he kissed her she quietly slipped under his vest A relic she long had worn next to her breast-- 'Twas a relic in sooth the most sacred--a Cross that the holy St. Colomb had blessed. And lo! in the place of the Hunter in Green ('Twas all by the fountain of Coirre-na-Sheen), A brown, withered twig, so elf twisted and dry, Was all--'twas amazing--the maid could espy! While the Cross, with a bright burning light round its edges, beside it did lie. And the maid grasped the Cross, which devoutly she kissed, And hid it again in the snow of her breast; Homewards she turned her with pensive steps slowly, But her heart was at peace--meek, submissive, and lowly, As maid and as mother (the Cross at her breast) she passed a life holy.