The Harp of Erin Containing the Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Dermody. In Two Volumes |
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 | The Harp of Erin |  |
116
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF HENRY FLOOD, ESQ.
On a steep rock above the dashing
wave,
While shrieking sea-winds broke the sullen fall,
Ierne wept her Flood's untimely grave;
Too early claim'd by death's resistless call.
While shrieking sea-winds broke the sullen fall,
Ierne wept her Flood's untimely grave;
Too early claim'd by death's resistless call.
Dim-floating clouds enwreath'd the silent
shore,
For black-pall'd night her sombre scenery drew;
Low caverns echo'd to the watery roar,
And eve departing cast a pallid blue:
For black-pall'd night her sombre scenery drew;
Low caverns echo'd to the watery roar,
And eve departing cast a pallid blue:
When tranc'd in woe, the melancholy maid,
Struck with sad hand the harp's symphonious string;
Soft sunk each measure through the midnight shade,
That waked the druid-sage, and spectre-king.
Struck with sad hand the harp's symphonious string;
Soft sunk each measure through the midnight shade,
That waked the druid-sage, and spectre-king.
Beneath the moon's wan ray the heroes rose;
Heroes of yore, that propp'd Juverna's state:
Anxious they heard maternal Virtue's woes,
Despairing, wept their brother's final fate.
Heroes of yore, that propp'd Juverna's state:
Anxious they heard maternal Virtue's woes,
Despairing, wept their brother's final fate.
117
In still low whispers thus they breath'd around,
While choral warblings fill'd the pregnant air;
“Long shall thy bust with civic bay be crown'd,
“Long shall thy worth, thy goodness flourish fair.
While choral warblings fill'd the pregnant air;
“Long shall thy bust with civic bay be crown'd,
“Long shall thy worth, thy goodness flourish fair.
“Oft, while retired, the sons of Alma tune
The grateful reed, each echo's timid tongue
Shall learn thy name, and oft th' enshrined moon
Shall stoop to hear, her silvery host among.
The grateful reed, each echo's timid tongue
Shall learn thy name, and oft th' enshrined moon
Shall stoop to hear, her silvery host among.
“Yes, thou couldst warm the breast with Spartan
fire,
Or soothe to peace the wild relentless crowd;
The seeds of sov'reign liberty inspire,
And dare to tell thy country's wrongs aloud.
Or soothe to peace the wild relentless crowd;
The seeds of sov'reign liberty inspire,
And dare to tell thy country's wrongs aloud.
“Say, what brave meed the patriot's frontshall
twine?
What gorgeous tribute mark each signal deed?
For him the Muse shall raise the lay divine;
For him the public bosom deeply bleed.
What gorgeous tribute mark each signal deed?
For him the Muse shall raise the lay divine;
For him the public bosom deeply bleed.
“The storied arch, the monumental vaunt,
And all the trifles of ingenious art,
Are poor—the real grief should plant
Its feeling basis in a people's heart.”
And all the trifles of ingenious art,
Are poor—the real grief should plant
Its feeling basis in a people's heart.”
| The Harp of Erin | |