Oh, Harp of Erin what glamour gay, What dark despairing are in thy lay? What true love slighted thy sorrow wells, What proud hearts plighted thy rapture tells. Round thy dim form lamenting swarm What banshees dread; till, glowing warm, A heavenly iris of hope upsprings From out the tumult that shakes thy strings. (The chief dejected, with drooping brow, Aroused, erected, is hearkening now, The while abhorrent of shame and fear Thy tuneful torrent invades his ear. He calls his clan: "Who will and can The slogan follow in Valour's van?" Then forward thunder the gallant Gael And death and plunder are o'er the pale.) The child is calling through fever dreams; When, softly falling as faery streams, Thy magic Soontree his soul shall sweep, Into the country of blessed sleep. To ears that heed not their longing moan Let lovers plead not with words alone, But seek thine aid. The haughtiest maid Will pause by thy sweet influence swayed; Until the ditty so poignant proves, She melts to pity and melting loves.
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931) [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 Charles Villiers Stanford, Sir (1852 - 1924), "The melody of the harp", op. 76 no. 7, published 1901 [voice and piano], from Songs of Erin, no. 7, London, Boosey [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Mike Pearson
This text was added to the website: 2016-09-13
Line count: 26
Word count: 174