Thomas Moore, 1808, from Irish Melodies, vol. 1
Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,|
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid:
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
2. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,
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