Thomas Moore ( )

From Irish Melodies. 56. The Song of ORuark, Prince of Breffni

THE valley lay smiling before me,
      Where lately I left her behind;
Yet I trembled, and something hung oer me,
      That saddend the joy of my mind.
I lookd for the lamp which, she told me,
      Should shine when her Pilgrim returnd;
But, though darkness began to infold me,
      No lamp from the battlements burnd!

I flew to her chamber  twas lonely,
      As if the loved tenant lay dead; 
Ah, would it were death, and death only!
      But no, the young false one had fled.
And there hung the lute that could soften
      My very worst pains into bliss;
While the hand that had waked it so often
      Now throbbd to a proud rivals kiss.

There was a time, falsest of women,
      When Breffnis good sword would have sought
That man, through a million of foemen,
      Who dared but to wrong thee in thought!
While now  oh degenerate daughter
      Of Erin, how fallen is thy fame!
And through ages of bondage and slaughter,
      Our country shall bleed for thy shame.

Already the curse is upon her,
      And strangers her valleys profane;
They come to divide, to dishonour,
      And tyrants they long will remain.
But onward! -- the green banner rearing,
      Go, flesh every sword to the hilt;
On our side is Virtue and Erin,
      On theirs is the Saxon and Guilt.

Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From Irish Melodies. 61. Id Mourn the Hopes
  2. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 3
  3. From Irish Melodies. 10. Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
  4. From Irish Melodies. 92. ODonohues Mistress
  5. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 55

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