 | The Harp of Erin |  |
Thou, too, dejected vestal! doom'd to find,
For thy pure train, no habitation kind;
Thou, like the weary dove, who long hast flown
O'er a vile world, immerg'd in vices of its own;
Religion! thou shouldst view, with glad surprise,
Thy temples o'er the impious deluge rise,
And flooding Infidelity retreat
Before the pressure of thy sainted feet!
For thy pure train, no habitation kind;
Thou, like the weary dove, who long hast flown
O'er a vile world, immerg'd in vices of its own;
Religion! thou shouldst view, with glad surprise,
Thy temples o'er the impious deluge rise,
And flooding Infidelity retreat
Before the pressure of thy sainted feet!
| The Harp of Erin | |