I ely to a little group of    many enougo be called a village, in tartan in ty Galway, w of Ireland.

        tle, Ballylee, ined by a farmer and tage tle mill rees ttle river and great stepping-stones. I    times last year to talk to t Biddy Early, a    lived in Clare some years ago, and about wo mill-wheels of Ballylee,”

        and to find out from    ters or some ot is autumn, because Mary iful urf fires, died ty years ago; for our feet o make us uand t it is not of t me a little le, and do    in brambles and sloe bus is ttle old foundation of t t of it is taken for building s e t are gro till t ky, and t gro girl in Ireland,    driven snoalked to    a poem in Irisery, a famous poet, made about    said, “trong cellar in Ballylee.” rong cellar     me to a deep pool,    many fis of ter at early m “to taste ter ing dohe hills.”

        I first    tery and Mary ill I die,” and t    to go round and to mark some o go to, and to reated    if you did not,    you in Irisest poet in Ireland, and    t buso stand u. tood under from t, and ter came t.” So a friend and to myself in Irisoo proud to be t of ural as t Irisry of t tury, for ts are arranged in a too obviously traditional form, so t o speak as if    of everyto t it ender p ranslation, but some of it ry people t y of t translations.

        Going to Mass by the will of God,

        t and the wind rose;

        I met Mary    tartan,

        And I fell in love here.

        I spoke to her kind and mannerly,

        As by report was her own way;

        And sery, my mind is easy,

        You may e to-day to Ballylee.”

        linger,

        alk    to my    my    rose.

        e o go across three fields,

        e    o Ballylee.

        table    measure, Sting beside me;

        And sery, and a rong cellar in Ballylee.”

        O star of lig,

        O amber he world,

        ill you e h me upon Sunday

        till ogethe people?

        I    grudge you a song every Sunday evening,

        Puncable, or ,

        But, O King of Glory, dry the roads before me,

        till I find to Ballylee.

        t air on the hill

        hen you are looking down upon Ballylee;

        s and blackberries, t

        and music of the Sidhe.

        is till you

        Of t is by your side?

        to deny it or to try and ,

        S.

        t of Ireland I did not travel,

        From to tops of tains,

        to ty but was behind hers.

        oo;    and s.

        She branch,

        She shining flower of Ballylee.

        It is Mary his calm and easy woman,

        y in her mind and in her face.

        If a ogether,

        t e down a half of her ways.

        An old    nig beautiful to tell me about    every e. As many as eleven men asked    s    of men up beyond Kilbety one nigting togetalking of    up a out to go to Ballylee and see     Bog o it o ter, and t     “tro man t -time to get to Ballylee.” tradition gives t Derrybrien among tge    desolate place, ag upon t of Ec still mindful of many poems and of ty of a speece t it looked blue, and stle blusold me many tales of ten sa ure. I    oo—soo mucure. One day I ired, and    t no more tiful brig s kno too little gold to knos colour. But a man by t Kinvara, o remember Mary    all to be seen noo any kind of a meeting, t of    many in love    s is said t no o    them will ever live long.”

        t is aken by t a fator told me once, may give o them”

        oo, t Mary aken,” as taken many t are not    take s to look at    did not say ‘God bless    Duras tle doubt t saken, “for t    remember o ttern[FN#3] to be t girl in Ireland.” S may be t t to    uand literally, meant imes. trymen and tryions, are many years o t old Greek    set beauty beside tain of too muc tell of    le as troy grele whe walls.

        [FN#3]    A “pattern,” or “patron,” is a festival in .

        t    t of Ireland.

        Some t Raftery     enougo see    some t t in t never look on t one day, ery oget t are blind o knoo feel more, and to do more, and to guess more t , and a certain    and a certain o tell you t    only blind but a poet?

        t Mary ry    of ty, for t are t of ty—poetry and dang and principles. t is    man ing doter beter learning tion you’d meet no it from God”; and a man at Coole says, “ o one part of o    ten in a book”; and an old pensio Kiltartan says, “anding under a busime, and alked to it, and it ans spoke, but it must ed voi it, and it gave er is to be seen on t a bus may    of this shape.

        A friend of mi a man once    een Gillaold Dr.    all nig reaming up to     long t lig    o , and sang such religious songs.”

        It may be t in a feies to immortalities io perfect symbols of ty and of the magnifid penury of dreams.

        1900.

        ory district        been noted food looks, y    to    misfortune .    over tiful girls t    beauty    o anybody. It o be proud of and afraid of. I en out    time, for turesque them.

        1902.
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