A estrela de County Down

Há unha série de canzóns irlandesas (mais non só irlandesas) que descreven un encontro inesperado do herói cunha fermosa dama. A dama emerxe do siléncio, aparece de xeito case máxico de detrás duns carvallos ou no meio dunha chaira ou à beira dun lago. E sorri. Quizá detrás diso latexa un algo de divindade antiga que pula por embeber ollos novos. Coma a señora de fios de ouro dalgunhas cantigas galegas. Mais o tema tamén entronca coa tradizón lírica medieval, pois é un encontro que en muitos aspeitos pode lembrar as nosas pastorelas, herdeiras pola sua vez duns contidos de orixe provenzal que cristalizaron na tradizón oral irlandesa da man dos invasores anglonormandos. A poesia, como vemos, abre-se paso através de países e oceanos como o páxaro aquel de Branwen...
Unha das pezas máis populares que reproduce este tema (e dito sexa de paso, a miña predilecta) é The Star of the County Down. Há un xermolo de obsesón leda nestes versos: esa sweet colleen súbita e redonda invade o pensamento do cuitado mozo que se cruzou con ela; e el proclama que, dun cabo a outro de Irlanda, non há ollos, boca, cabelo nen recendo comparáveis ao de Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann...
Por certo, canta Van Morrison, borrascoso e altivo como decote...

Near Banbridge town, in the County Down
One morning in July
Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
To make sure I was really there.

Chorus
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped I shook my head
And I gazed with a feeling rare
And I said, says I, to a passerby
"who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and with pride says he,
"That's the gem of Ireland's crown.
young Rosie McCann
from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down."

(Chorus)

I've travelled a bit, but never was hit
Since my roving career began
But fair and square I surrendered there
To the charms of young Rose McCann.
I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet
Did I meet with in shawl or gown
But in she went and I asked no rent
From the star of the County Down.

(Chorus)

At the harvest fair I'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
And I'll try sheep's eyes, and deludhering lies
On the heart of the nut-brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Though with rust my plow turns brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.

(Chorus)