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IRISH MELODIES,
COMPLETE;
10 WHICH ARE ADDED
NATIONAL MELODIES.
BY THOMAS MOORE, Esq.
BRUSSELS,
PRINTED AND SOLD BY E. PAUL AND CO.
1822.
BODLEIAT
JUN 1943
LIBRARY
CONTENTS.
IRISH MELODIES.
Go where glory waits thee.
Remember the glories of Bricn the Brave.
Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes.
Oh! breathe not his name-let it sleep in the shade. ibid.
When he who adores thee has left but the name.
The harp that once through Tara's halls.
Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour.
6
.
7
8
9
Oh! think not my spirits are always as light.
Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see. If
Rich and rare were the gems she wore.
As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow.
There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet..
Oh! haste and leave this sacred isle.
How dear to me the hour when day-light dies.
Take back the Virgin | age.
When in death I shall calm recline.
How oft has the Benshee cried.
13
14
15
17
18
19
21
We may roam through this world like a child at a feast. 24
Oh! weep for the hour. ...
Let Erin remember the days of old.
Silent, oh, Moyle, be the roar of thy water.
Come send round the wine and let points of belief.
Sublime was the warning which liberty spoke.
Believe me if all these endearing young charms.
Like the bright lamp that lay on Kildare's holy shrine.
35
Drink to her who long hath waked the poet's sigh.
Oh! blame not the bard if he fly to the bowers.
While gazing on the Moon's light.
When day-light was yet sleeping under the billow.
By the hope within us springing.
147
48
50
52
53
Night closed around the Conqueror's way.
Oh! 'tis sweet to think that where'er we rove..
Through grief and through danger.
When through life unblest we rove.
56
It is not the tear at this moment shed.
'Tis believed. that this harp that I wake now for thee. 54
Oh! the days are gone, when beauty bright..
Though dark are our sorrows, to-day we'll forget them.
Weep on, weep on, your hour is past.
Lesbia hath a beaming eye.
I saw thy form in youthful prime.
By that lake whose gloomy shore.
She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps.
Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns.
Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin.
What the Bee is to the floweret.
Here we dwell in holiest bowers.
This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes..
Through Erin's isle.
58
60
61
63
65
67
68
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, Ifly. 78
One bumper at parting! though many .
Tis the last rose of summer.
The young May moon is beaming, 1ove.
The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone.
The valley lay smiling before me.
Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own.
Farewell!-but, whenever you welcome the nour.
79
81
82
84
85
88
89
Oh! doubt me not-the season.
You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride.
I'd mourn the hopes that leave me. .
Come o'er the sea.
Has sorrow thy young days shaded.
No, not more welcome the fairy numbers.
When first I met thee, warm and young.
While History's Muse the memorial was keeping.
The time I've lost in wooing.
Oh! where's the slave so lowly.
91
93
94
96
98
108
Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer.
'Tis gone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking.. 109
I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining. 111
Fill the bumper fair. . .
113
Dear Harp of my country! in darkness I found thee! 115
My gentle Harp! once more I waken.
As slow our ship her foamy track
.117
119
In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown. 120
When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved. 122
Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this heart. 124
Wreath the bowl.
Whene'er I see those smiling eyes.
If thou'lt be mine, the treasures of air.
To Ladies'eyes around, boy.
Forget not the field where they perish'd.
125
127
128
129
They may rail at this life-from the hour I began it. 132
Oh! for the swords of former time.
Ne'er ask the hour- what is it to us.
Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark.
Yes, sad one of Sion-if closely resembling.
Drink of this cup-you'll find there's a spell in.
Down in the valley come meet me to-night.