Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 10
The dream of those days when first I sung thee is o'er*|
Thy triumph hath stain'd the charm thy sorrows then wore;
And even the light which Hope once shed o'er thy chains,
Alas, not a gleam to grace thy freedom remains.
2. Say, is it that slavery sunk so deep in thy heart,
3. Up Liberty's steep by Truth and Eloquence led,
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