by David Thomson (flourished c1812)
O harp of Erin
Language: English
O harp of Erin thou art now laid low, For he the last of all his race is gone: And now no more the minstrel's verse shall flow, That sweetly mingled with thy dulcet tone: The hand is cold that with a poet's fire Could sweep in magic change thy sounding wire. How lonely were the minstrel's latter days, How of thy string with strains indignant rung; To desert wilds he pour'd his ancient lays, Or to a shepherd boy his legend sung: The purple heath of ev'ning was his bed, His shelter from the storm a peasant's shed! The gale that round his urn its odour flings, And waves the flow's that o'er it wildly wreathe, Shall thrill along thy few remaining strings, And with a mournful chord his requiem breathe. The shepherd boy that paus'd his song to hear, Shall chant it o'er his grave, and drop a tear.
Authorship:
- by David Thomson (flourished c1812), "O harp of Erin" [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827), "O harp of Erin", WoO. 152 (25 irische Lieder) no. 25, G. 223 no. 25 (1810/3) [ voice, violin, violoncello, piano ] [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827), "O harp of Erin", WoO. 154 (12 Irische Lieder) no. 2, G. 225 no. 2, published 1814/6 [ voice, piano, violin, violoncello ] [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Georg Pertz) , "O Harfe Irlands"
Researcher for this page: Ferdinando Albeggiani
This text was added to the website: 2004-12-11
Line count: 18
Word count: 151