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 | The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton |  |
IRELAND, 1847.
The woes of Ireland are too deep for verse:
The Muse has many sorrows of her own;
Griefs she may well to sympathy rehearse,
Pains she may soften by her gentle tone.
The Muse has many sorrows of her own;
Griefs she may well to sympathy rehearse,
Pains she may soften by her gentle tone.
But the stark death in hunger and sharp cold,
The slow exhaustion of our mortal clay,
Are not for her to touch.—She can but fold
Her mantle o'er her head, and weep and pray.
The slow exhaustion of our mortal clay,
Are not for her to touch.—She can but fold
Her mantle o'er her head, and weep and pray.
O gracious Ruler of the rolling hours!
Let not this agony last over long;
Restore a nation to its manly powers,
Give back its suffe'rings to the sphere of Song.
Let not this agony last over long;
Restore a nation to its manly powers,
Give back its suffe'rings to the sphere of Song.
| The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton | |