(Thomas Moore)


. 32.


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   1970 
   




From Irish Melodies. 32. After the Battle


Night closed around the conquerors way,
  	And lightnings showed the distant hill,
Where those who lost that dreadful day,
  	Stood few and faint, but fearless still.
The soldiers hope, the patriots zeal,
  	For ever dimmed, for ever crost 
Oh! who shall say what heroes feel,
  	When all but life and honors lost?

The last sad hour of freedoms dream,
  	And valors task, moved slowly by,
While mute they watcht, till mornings beam
  	Should rise and give them light to die.
Theres yet a world, where souls are free,
  	Where tyrants taint not natures bliss; 
If death that worlds bright opening be,
  	Oh! who would live a slave in this?






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