The harp that once through Tara’s… The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls… As if that soul were fled. — So sleeps the pride of former days…

To Ladies’ eyes a round, boy, We can’t refuse, we can’t refuse; Though bright eyes so abound, boy, ‘Tis hard to choose, ’tis hard to… For thick as stars that lighten

Oh for the swords of former time! Oh for the men who bore them, When, arm’d for Right, they stood… And tyrants crouch’d before them: When free yet, ere courts began

Fly not yet, ‘tis just the hour, When pleasure, like the midnight f… That scorns the eye of vulgar ligh… Begins to bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon.

Oh! weep for the hour, When to Eveleen’s bower, The Lord of the Valley with false… The moon hid her light, From the heavens that night,

No, not more welcome the fairy num… Of music fall on the sleeper’s ear… When half awaking from fearful slu… He thinks the full quire of heaven… Than came that voice, when, all fo…

Wreath the bowl With flowers of soul, The brightest Wit can find us, We’ll take a flight Towards heaven to—night,

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 slee…

Alone in crowds to wander on, And feel that all the charm is gon… Which voices dear and eyes beloved Shed round us once, where’er we ro… This, this the doom must be

“On! haste, and leave this sacred… Unholy bark, ere morning smile; For on thy deck, though dark it be… A female form I see; And I have sworn this sainted sod

Lay his sword by his side —it hath… Not to rest near his pillow below; To the last moment true, from his… Its point was still turn’d to a fl… Fellow—labourers in life, let them…

Forget not the field where they pe… The truest, the last of the brave, All gone —and the bright hope we c… Gone with them, and quench’d in th… Oh! could we from death but recove…

To—morrow, comrade, we On the battle—plain must be, There to conquer, or both lie low! The morning star is up — But there’s wine still in the cup,

Come riddle—me—ree, come riddle—me… And tell me, what my name may be. I am nearly one hundred and thirty… And therefore no chicken, as you m… Though a dwarf in my youth (as my…