Thomas Moore

From “Irish Melodies”. 40. Weep on, Weep on

          WEEP on, weep on, your hour is past,
                Your dreams of pride are o’er;
          The fatal chain is round you cast,
                And you are men no more.
          In vain the hero’s heart hath bled;
                The sage’s tongue hath warn’d in vain;
          Oh, Freedom! once thy flame hath fled,
                It never lights again!

          Weep on — perhaps in after days,
                They’ll learn to love your name,
          When many a deed may wake in praise
                That long hath slept in blame.
          And when they tread the ruin’d isle,
                Where rest, at length, the lord and slave,
          They’ll wondering ask, how hands so vile
                Could conquer hearts so brave?

          "’Twas fate," they’ll say, "a wayward fate
                Your web of discord wove;
          And while your tyrants join’d in hate,
                You never join’d in love.
          But hearts fell off that ought to twine,
                And man profaned what God had given;
          Till some were heard to curse the shrine
                Where others knelt in heaven.!"