Tara's Harp
Tara's Harp | |
Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 1
| The harp that once through Tara's Hall The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's wall 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 Now feel that pulse no more. | 2. No more to chiefs and ladies bright, The harp of Tara swells; The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives. |