The harp that once through Tara's halls <br />The soul of music shed, <br />Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, <br />As if that soul were fled. -- <br />So sleeps the pride of former days, <br />So glory's thrill is o'er, <br />And hearts, that once beat high for praise, <br />Now feel that pulse no more. <br /> <br />No more to chiefs and ladies bright <br />The harp of Tara swells; <br />The chord alone, that breaks at night, <br />Its tale of ruin tells. <br />Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, <br />The only throb she gives, <br />Is when some heart indignant breaks, <br />To show that still she lives.<br /><br />Thomas Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-harp-that-once-through-tara-s-halls/
