Silence is in Our Festal Halls
Silence is in our festal halls Sweet son of song! thy course is o’er; In vain on thee sad Erin calls, Her minstrel’s voice responds no more; All silent as the Eolian shell Sleeps
Sail On, Sail On
Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark Where’er blows the welcome wind, It cannot lead to scenes more dark, More sad than those we leave behind. Each wave that passes seems to say, “Though
Drink To Her
Drink to her who long Hath waked the poet’s sigh, The girl who gave to song What gold could never buy. Oh! woman’s heart was made For minstrel hands alone; By other fingers play’d,
An Expostulation to Lord King
How can you, my Lord, thus delight to torment all The Peers of realm about cheapening their corn, When you know, if one hasn’t a very high rental, ‘Tis hardly worth while being very
Shall the Harp Then Be Silent
Shall the Harp then be silent, when he who first gave To our country a name, is withdrawn from all eyes? Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the grave Where the first
Where is the Slave
Oh, where’s the slave so lowly, Condemn’d to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly? What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay’d
You Remember Ellen
You remember Ellen, our hamlet’s pride, How meekly she bless’d her humble lot, When the stranger, William, had made her his bride, And love was the light of their lowly cot. Together they toil’d
The Mountain Sprite
In yonder valley there dwelt, alone, A youth, whose moments had calmly flown, ‘Till spells came o’er him, and, day and night, He was haunted and watch’d by a Mountain Sprite. As once, by
The Song of Fionnuala
Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water, Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose, While, murmuring mournfully, Lir’s lonely daughter Tell’s to the night-star her tale of woes. When shall the
Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms
Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Live fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored,
Love and the Novice
“Here we dwell, in holiest bowers, Where angels of light o’er our orisans bend; Where sighs of devotion and breathings of flowers To heaven in mingled odour ascend. Do not disturb our calm, oh
Erin, Oh Erin
Like the bright lamp, that shone in Kildare’s holy fane, And burn’d through long ages of darkness and storm, Is the heart that sorrows have frown’d on in vain, Whose spirit outlives them, unfading
Let Erin Remember the Days of Old
Let Erin remember the days of old, Ere her faithless sons betray’d her; When Malachi wore the collar of gold, Which he won from her proud invader, When her kings, with standard of green
O'Donohue's Mistress
Of all the fair months, that round the sun In light-link’d dance their circles run, Sweet May, shine thou for me; For still, when thy earliest beams arise, That youth, who beneath the blue
Farewell! But Whenever You Welcome the Hour
Farewell! but whenever you welcome the hour That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy