Then awake!--till rise of sun, my dear,
The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear,
Or, in watching the flight
Of bodies of light,
He might happen to take thee for one, my dear.
THE MINSTREL-BOY.
The Minstrel-Boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on.
And his wild harp slung behind him.
"Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
"_One_ sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
"_One_ faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell!--but the foeman's chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
"Thou soul of love and bravery!
"Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
"They shall never sound in slavery."
THE SONG OF O'RUARK,
PRINCE OF BREFFNI.[1]
The valley lay smiling before me,
Where lately I left her behind;
Yet I trembled, and something hung o'er me,
That saddened the joy of my mind.
I looked for the lamp which, she told me,
Should shine, when her Pilgrim returned;
But, tho' darkness began to infold me,
No lamp from the battlements burned!
I flew to her chamber--'twas lonely,
As if the loved tenant lay dead;--
Ah, would it were death, and death only!
But no, the young false one had fled.
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