Ye brilliant Muses who ne'er refuses
But still infuses in the poet's mind
Your strong sweet flavour to my endeavour
If my ardent favours appear sublime
Protect my study from getting muddy
By ideas ready to inspire my brain
And my quill refine while I write those lines
On a simple divine called the Star of Slane
II
A beauteous Spring when warblers sing
And their music rings through each silent grove
Bright sun did shine which did me incline
By the River Boyne for to go to rove
I was contemplating and meditating
And ruminating as I passed the plain
Till a charming fairy beyond compare
Did my heart ensnare near the town of Slane
III
To praise her beauty it is my duty
But alas! I am faulty in that simple art
For to my sorrow Cupid's arrow
Full deep did burrow in my tender heart
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- - -
Yet decked by native I will tell the features
Of that lovely creature called the Star of Slane