Thomas Moore, 1808, from Irish Melodies, vol. 1
As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow|
While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below,
So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile,
Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.
2. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws
3. Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay,
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