The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls - John McCormack

The harp that once through Tara's halls

the soul of music shed

now hangs as mute on Tara's walls

as if the soul were fled

So sleeps the pride of former days so glory's thrill is over

and hearts that once beat high for praise

now feel that pulse no more

No more to lords and ladies bright

the harp of Tara' swells

the chord alone that breaks at night

its tale of ruin tells

Thus freedon now so seldom wakes

the only throb she gives

is when some heart indignant breaks

to show that still she lives