Poetry Monster

English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 56. The Song of O’Ruark, Prince of Breffni. Томас Мур.

Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “Irish Melodies”. 56. The Song of O’Ruark, Prince of Breffni

THE valley lay smiling before me,
      Where lately I left her behind;
Yet I trembled, and something hung o’er me,
      That sadden’d the joy of my mind.
I look’d for the lamp which, she told me,
      Should shine when her Pilgrim return’d;
But, though darkness began to infold me,
      No lamp from the battlements burn’d!

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.
And there hung the lute that could soften
      My very worst pains into bliss;
While the hand that had waked it so often
      Now throbb’d to a proud rival’s kiss.

There was a time, falsest of women,
      When Breffni’s good sword would have sought
That man, through a million of foemen,
      Who dared but to wrong thee in thought!
While now — oh degenerate daughter
      Of Erin, how fallen is thy fame!
And through ages of bondage and slaughter,
      Our country shall bleed for thy shame.

Already the curse is upon her,
      And strangers her valleys profane;
They come to divide, to dishonour,
      And tyrants they long will remain.
But onward! —-- the green banner rearing,
      Go, flesh every sword to the hilt;
On our side is Virtue and Erin,
      On theirs is the Saxon and Guilt.

Thomas Moore’s other poems:

  1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 57
  2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 59
  3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 64
  4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 62
  5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 61

To the dedicated English version of this website

Добавить комментарий

This site uses User Verification plugin to reduce spam. See how your comment data is processed.