 | Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 |  |
40
IRISH MELODY. No. 5.
O lady, do not sing of love,
Unless thy heart will own its sway;
Thou wak'st anew each pang I strove
So long to lull or chase away.
Yet would I fain those notes prolong,
Still mark those fairy fingers rove;
But change the subject of thy song,—
Sing any lay but that of love.
Unless thy heart will own its sway;
Thou wak'st anew each pang I strove
So long to lull or chase away.
Yet would I fain those notes prolong,
Still mark those fairy fingers rove;
But change the subject of thy song,—
Sing any lay but that of love.
Oh! sing the youthful patriot's thought,
When first he grasps his father's brand;
And then my soul, with feelings fraught,
Will fire to free my native land.
Or sing some tale of Erin's woe,
In Erin's wildly mournful strain;
And then perchance my tears may flow,
And that may ease my burning brain.
When first he grasps his father's brand;
And then my soul, with feelings fraught,
Will fire to free my native land.
Or sing some tale of Erin's woe,
In Erin's wildly mournful strain;
And then perchance my tears may flow,
And that may ease my burning brain.
Or, prophet-like, in lively strain,
Foretell that happier hours shall smile,
And freedom's sun shall gild again
The mountains of my much-loved isle.
But do not—do not sing of love,
And probe the wound thou wilt not heal;
Mock not the pangs thou dost not prove,
Nor feign the joys thou scorn'st to feel.
Foretell that happier hours shall smile,
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The mountains of my much-loved isle.
But do not—do not sing of love,
And probe the wound thou wilt not heal;
Mock not the pangs thou dost not prove,
Nor feign the joys thou scorn'st to feel.
| Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 | |