"I am bow'd down, with years
And fast flow my tears
But I wander, I mourn not
Your pity to win:
'Tis not age, want, or care
I could poverty bear
'Tis the shame of my heart
That is breaking within."

Thou are bow'd down with years
And fast flow thy tears
But why dost thou wander
No pity to win?
Were it age, were it care
We could soothe, we could share
But what is the shame
Thy sad bosom within?

"Oh, if thou should'st hear
From splendour's high sphere
The sorrow, the tale
Which these notes may convey!
Think, think of past hours
Thy dear native bowers
And turn not, my love
From thy fathеr away."
'Tis from Erin so dear
The lay that we hеar
Then welcome tha minstrel
And welcome the lay:
But where are the bowers
And what are the hours
And where is the daughter
That wander'd away?

"What peace thou hast known
Since from me thou hast flown!
And, Eveleen, think
But how wretched am I!
O let me but live
Thy fault to forgive
Again let me love thee
And bless thee, and die!"

O cease then thy song
She has languished too long;
She hoped not thy smile
Of forgiveness to see:
She sunk at the word
Thy voice when she heard
And she lives (if she lives)
But for virtue and thee