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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
The Harp that Once through Tara’s Halls
By Thomas Moore (1779–1852)
 
THE HARP that once through Tara’s halls
  The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls
  As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,        5
  So glory’s thrill is o’er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise
  Now feel that pulse no more.
 
No more to chiefs and ladies bright
  The harp of Tara swells;        10
The chord alone that breaks at night
  Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes
  The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks,        15
  To show that still she lives.
 
 
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