by Sir Alexander Boswell (1775 - 1822)
Translation © by Susana Martin Dudoignon

The pulse of an Irishman
Language: English 
Available translation(s): FRE SPA
The pulse of an Irishman ever beats quicker,
whan war is the story, or love is the theme;
and place him where bullets fly thicker and thicker,
you'll find him all cowardice scorning.
And tho' a ball should maim poor Darby,
light at the heart he rallies on:
"Fortune is cruel, but Norah, my jewel,
is kind, and with smiling, all sorrow beguiling,
shall bid from our cabin all care to be gone,
and how they will jig it, and tug at the spigot,
an Patrick's day in the mornin'."

O blest by the land in the wide western waters,
sweet Erin, lov'd Erin, the pride of my song;
still brave be the sons, and still fair be the daughters
thy meads and thy mountains adorning!
And tho'  the eastern sun seems tardy,
tho' the pure light of knowledge slow,
night and delusion, and darkling confusion
like mists from the river shall vanish for ever,
and true Irish hearts with warm loyalty glow;
and proud exaltation burst forth from the nation
on Patrick's day in the mornin'.


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Isabelle Cecchini) , "Le sang d'un Irlandais", copyright © 2003, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Georg Pertz) , "Das Blut eines Iren"
  • SPA Spanish (Español) (Susana Martin Dudoignon) , "El pulso de un irlandés", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Caroline Diehl

This text was added to the website: 2005-01-16
Line count: 22
Word count: 177

El pulso de un irlandés
Language: Spanish (Español)  after the English 
El pulso de un irlandés siempre late más rápido 
cuando la historia es de guerras o el tema es el amor; 
ponle donde las balas silben incesantes 
y le encontrarás desdeñando toda cobardía. 
Y aunque una bala mutilara al pobre Darby, 
con alegría en el corazón diría, resuelto: 
“Cruel es la fortuna, pero Norah, mi tesoro, 
es amable y, con su sonrisa que todo lo cura, 
hará desaparecer todos los pesares de nuestro hogar. 
¡Y cómo danzaremos, al grifo le daremos, 
en el día de San Patricio, por la mañana! 
¡Bendita sea la tierra en las amplias aguas del oeste, 
dulce Erín, amada Erín, orgullo de mi canción; 
que tus hijos sigan siendo bravos y tus hijas bellas, 
tus prados y montañas fértiles y hermosos! 
Si el sol del este te alcanza tarde, 
si la luz de la sabiduría es lenta, 
noche, desamparo y desasosiegos se desvanecerán 
para siempre, como nieblas que ascienden del torrente, 
pues los nobles corazones irlandeses brillarán con 
ardiente lealtad y toda la nación rezumará orgullo 
en el día de San Patricio, por la mañana. 


  • Translation from English to Spanish (Español) copyright © 2021 by Susana Martin Dudoignon, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.

Based on


This text was added to the website: 2021-06-16
Line count: 22
Word count: 179