At the Mid Hour of Night
Melody - "Molly, my dear"
Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 5
|At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly|
To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air,
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky.
2. Then I sing the wild song 'twas once such pleasure to hear!
When our voices commingling breathed, like one, on the ear;
And, as Echo far off through the vale my said orison rolls,
I think, oh my love! 'tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls,*
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.
* "There are countries," says Montaigne, "where they believe the souls of the happy live in all manner of liberty, in delightful fields; and that it those souls, repeating the words we utter, which we call Echo." - from Irish Melodies.