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 that soul were fled

So sleeps the pride of former days

So glory’s thrill is o’er

And the 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

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

To show that still she lives