Home, Sweet Home (1829)/The Harp That Once

For other versions of this work, see The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls.

THE HARP THAT ONCE.

The Harp that once throngh Tara’s halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute as Para's walls
As if that soul was fled:—
So sleep's the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Para swells;
The chord alone, that breaks at night,
It's tale of ruin tells:
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives,
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.