 
Move, O Monk, thy foot away! Lift it from the grave of Nial! All too high thou heap'st the pile; All too deep thou diggest the clay. Brown-haired Monk, most gentle friend, Press not with thy foot the soil Nial to cover, heavy toil, Of thy labours make an end. Mournful priest, thy prayers delay, Close not yet the prince's tomb, Make an opening, for I come; Move, O Monk, thy foot away! Not my will that brought thee bound, Black-kneed Nial, with heart of gold! When mine arms his form enfold, Raise his stone, and smooth his mound. Daughter of King Flann the brave; Press not then upon his grave; Move, O Monk, thy foot away! |
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