The Bards of Ireland

The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he [has]1 girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him.
"Land of Song", said the warrior bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee".

[ ... ]

Remember the glories of Brien the brave,
  Though the days of the hero are o’er;
Though lost to Mononia, and cold in the grave,
  He returns to Kinkora no more.
That star of the field, which so often [hath poured]1
  Its beam on the battle, is set;
But enough of its glory remains on each sword
  To light us to victory yet.

[ ... ]

— Tacet —

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like [fairy-gifts]1, fading away!
Thou wouldst still be ador'd as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will;
And, around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still!

[ ... ]

Tho' the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see,
Yet, wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me.
In exile thy bosom shall still be my home,
And thine eyes make my climate, wherever we roam.

[ ... ]

The harp that once through Tara's halls
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,
So glory's thrill is o'er,
And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
No feel that pulse no more.

[ ... ]