THOMAS MOORE
237
Floating down the silence of a hundred years,
Lo! its deathless music thrills our listening ears!
Lo! its deathless music thrills our listening ears!
'Tis the voice our fathers loved so long ago,
Songs to which they listened warbling clear and low;
Hark, "Ye Disconsolate!" while the minstrel pure
Sings—"Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure!
Songs to which they listened warbling clear and low;
Hark, "Ye Disconsolate!" while the minstrel pure
Sings—"Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure!
Sings of love's wild rapture triumphing o'er pain,
Glorying in giving, counting loss but gain;
Sings the warrior's passion and the patriot's pride,
And the brave, unshrinking, who for glory died-
Glorying in giving, counting loss but gain;
Sings the warrior's passion and the patriot's pride,
And the brave, unshrinking, who for glory died-
Sings of Erin smiling through a mist of tears;
Of her patient waiting all the weary years;
Sings the pain of parting, and the joy divine
When the bliss of meeting stirs the heart like wine;
Of her patient waiting all the weary years;
Sings the pain of parting, and the joy divine
When the bliss of meeting stirs the heart like wine;
Sings of memories waking in "the stilly night;"
Of the "young dreams" fading in the morning light;
Of the "rose of summer" perishing too soon;
Of the early splendors waning ere the noon!
Of the "young dreams" fading in the morning light;
Of the "rose of summer" perishing too soon;
Of the early splendors waning ere the noon!
O thou tender singer! All the air to-day
Trembles with the burden of thy "farewell" lay;
Crowns and thrones may crumble, into darkness hurled,
Yet is song immortal; song shall rule the world!
Trembles with the burden of thy "farewell" lay;
Crowns and thrones may crumble, into darkness hurled,
Yet is song immortal; song shall rule the world!
