Old Galician Orange By John Campbell– Poems Series

123

    According to folklore in the reign of King Arthur in Duneet,
    there was a noble Irish Lord who set fire to
    the rock on the precipice of the said Arthur, and stole it He was captive of a
    noble king , and he gave him to Dun who had built him on Atholl-sea,
    and he was keeping her captive there. King Arthur spent a
    day at the hill hunting, lay down letting go, stopped,
    slept and dreamed of his captive ring,
    and agreed to set her free, but he didn’t know where to go. ‘where
    was she. Sir Walter himself went in search of her
    he would get a ship from the King. The King took a ship, and
    Sir Walter himself sent for him to find her on the horizon, and brought her
    to the King of Ayr, and it was for this
    reason that the matter improved. to do.

    The journey that the King of Arsenal went to the people
    To the pinnacle of the virtues ;
    No-one like the King
    But Sir Valve, under his army.
    No one, & c.

    The King of Brittany saw as
    he slept, The single most beautiful woman to bathe in the sun
    And he preferred his young
    wife’s wife to him.
    He preferred, & c.

    But he’d rather fall there
    With men’s fight, as he himself was.
    Or ask for the women who do
    n’t know where in the sun.
    Or go to seek, & c.

    Sir Valve reported when.
    My dream is to go to the women,
    I will go down to fetch my son and my
    three-year-old
    God to get me to do well, And

    seven weeks with a
    strife We are tired of sailing
    Without harbor, without ground,
    Without position, where the ship could warm.
    No harbor without, & c.

    The outskirts of the rough sea were
    cast A blue-white castle, with
    glass windows on its gable
    Mostly there were cupcakes.
    Glass windows, & c.

    When we were getting to the bottom,
    A chain was put down;
    And before the chain did not tremble
    But the throngs of mine were up.
    S before the chain, & c.

    The head of the blonde girl g
    On a chair sitting in a
    glass Mirror on her knee,
    Blessed be I of her white countenance.
    Glasses, & c.

    Men who came from the ocean
    O ocean Poor to bless you there.

    Though the big one would come in my wake
    Without joy, with his hard sword, Wishing you his beautiful
    wife.
    It is my fault to love rather than hate.
    For thy sake, & c.

    A weapon that would not redear the lizard,
    But his own white-sword.
    And it is better for you
    to succumb to a particular place of escape from death.
    And best, & c.

    Sir Walter was in relief
    And in came the big man.
    The smell of the mermaid came in
    Orrin, coming from the waves of the shore.
    The smell of the, & c.

    Soul, dear, sar in Great
    love I gave you,
    Put your head on my knee,
    And I’ll show you his harp.
    You send your, & c.

    He put his head on the new girl’s chest.
    It was blue , blue , brighter, And the sweetest
    she could sing,
    The voice was coming from her mouth.
    S how sweet, & c.

    As we sailed across the ocean
    He slept sounding, a heavy hollow,
    And they gave the sword his belt
    And they cut short their head off,
    And gave the, & c.

    They stole his captive and
    all his wife And his wife     was grief-stricken What do
    you tell my story
S as they read the roundtable?
    What are you, & c.

    A day to the King of Arsenal in the crowd There
    was a hunt on Tulloch, one of them
    No-one like King
    Achal, under army.

Note: This poem is in the public domain.

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