| The Harp That Once Through Tara's Hall |
|---|
| The harp that once through Tara’s halls |
| The soul of music shed |
| Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls |
| As if that soul were fled |
| So sleeps the pride of former days |
| So glory’s thrill is o’er |
| And the hearts that once beat high for praise |
| Now feel that pulse no more |
| No more to chiefs and ladies bright |
| The harp of Tara swells |
| The chord alone that breaks at night |
| Its tale of ruin tells |
| Thus freedom now so seldom wakes |
| The only throb she gives |
| Is when some heart indignant breaks |
| To show that still she lives |
