When she answered me her voice was low,
But minstrel never matched his chords
To such a wealth of warbled words
In Temora's palace long ago.

When her eyes look'd back the love in mine,
Not Erin's self upon my sight
Has started out of stormy night
With a bluer welcome o'er the brine.

And no other orbs shall e'er eclipse
That magic look of maiden love,
And never song my soul shall move
Like that low sweet answer of her lips."