Poem by Thomas Moore

From “Irish Melodies”. 17. How Oft Has the Benshee Cried

         HOW oft has the Benshee cried,
         How oft has death untied
         Bright links that Glory wove,
         Sweet bonds entwined by Love.
Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth;
Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth;
         Long may the fair and brave,
         Sigh o’er the hero’s grave.

         We’re fallen upon gloomy days!
         Star after star decays.
         Every bright name, that shed
         Light o’er the land, is fled.
Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth
Lost joy, or hope that ne’er returneth:
         But brightly flows the tear,
         Wept o’er a hero’s bier.

         Quench’d are our beacon lights —
         Thou, of the Hundred Fights!
         Thou, on whose burning tongue
         Truth, peace, and freedom hung!
Both mute, — but long as valour shineth,
Or mercy’s soul at war repineth,
         So long shall Erin’s pride
         Tell how they lived and died.

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 48
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 19
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 3
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 57. Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 50

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