Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 3
By the hope within us springing,|
Herald of to-morrow's strife;
By that sun, whose light is bringing
Chains or freedom, death or life
Oh! remember life can be
No charm for him, who lives not free!
Like the day-star in the wave,
Sinks a hero in his grave,
'Midst the dew-fall of a nation's tears.
Happy is he o'er whose decline
O'er his watch-fire's fading embers|
Now the foeman's cheek turns white,
When his heart that field remembers,
Where we tamed his tyrant might.
Never let him bind again
A chain like that we broke from then.
Hark! the horn of combat calls
Ere the golden evening falls,
May we pledge that horn in triumph round.*
Many a heart that now beats high,
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