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THE MEMORY OF MOORE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


88

THE MEMORY OF MOORE.

MAY 28, 1879.

Pledge now to the Minstrel whose undying numbers
Still set the heart bounding wherever they rise,—
The laurel-crowned Singer, whose fame never slumbers
Or wanders unknown beneath alien skies.
Can we ever forget them, the notes so enchanting
That stole on our senses with youth's fairy chimes,—
Those magical sounds all our after years haunting,
That echo like watchwords from happier climes?
Who taught us that Music and Song were both given
To kindle the soul to Love, Valor, and Joy?

89

Whose melodies charmed us like strains out of Heaven,
When a mother's dear voice sang them first to her boy?
Who taught us to welcome that swelling emotion
Which soldiers and martyrs and patriots feel,—
That wave which rolls on like the floods of the ocean
When despots are forging their fetters of steel?
Who taught us that chains for the mind are unholy,—
That Speech should be safe as wild birds on the wing?
Who strove to uplift from their bondage the lowly,
And ope the dumb lips that were longing to sing?
Let Freedom unroll her bright flag! for beneath it,
Proudly smiling, she points to her bard's cherished name.
Oh garland his tomb! Let the Shamrock enwreathe it,
And Erin forever exult in his fame!