Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 3
Oh! blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers*|
Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at Fame;
He was born for much more, and in happier hours
His soul might have burn'd with a holier flame.
The string, that now languishes loose o'er the lyre,
Might have bent a proud bow to the warrior's dart;**
And the lip, which now breathes but the song of desire
Might have pour'd the full tide of a patriot's heart.
2. But alas for his country! -- her pride is gone by,
3. Then blame not the bard, if in pleasure's soft dream
4. But though glory be gone, and though hope fade away,
** It is conjectured by Wormius, that the name of Ireland is derived from Yr, the Runic for a bow, in the use of which weapon the Irish were once very expert. This derivation is certainly more creditable to us than the following: "So that Ireland, called the land of Ire, from the constant broils therein for 400 years, was now become the land of concord." - Lloyd's State Worthies, art. - The Lord Grundison.
*** See the Hymn, attributed to Alcæus, -- "I will carry my sword, hidden in myrtles, like Harmodius and Aristogiton," etc. - Notes from Irish Melodies.
| Song Index | Home Page |