Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 8
Yes, sad one of Sion,* if closely resembling,|
In shame and in sorrow, thy wither'd-up heart
If drinking deep, deep, of the same "cup of trembling"
Could make us thy children, our parent thou art.
2. Like thee doth our nation lie conquer'd and broken,
3. Like thine doth her exile, 'mid dreams of returning,
4. Ah, well may we call her, like thee, "the Forsaken,"***
5. Yet hadst thou thy vengeance - yet came there the morrow,
6. When that cup, which for others the proud Golden City+
7. When the curse Heaven keeps for the haughty came over,
* These verses were written after the perusal of a treatise by Mr. Hamilton, professing to prove that the Irish were originally Jews.
** "Her sun's gone down while it was yet day." - Jer. xv. 9.
*** "Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken." - Isaiah, lxii. 4.
+ "How hath the opperssor ceased! the golden city ceased!" - Isaiah, xiv, 11.
++ "Thy pomp is brought down to the grave . . . and the worms cover thee." - Isaiah, xiv, 4.
+++ "Thou shalt no more be called the Lady of Kingdoms." - Isaiah, xlvii, 5.
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