  Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin, On him, who the brave sons of Usna betray'd! For ev'ry fond eye he hath waken'd a tear in, A drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o'er her blade. By the red cloud that hung over Connor's dark dwelling, When Ulad's three champions lay sleeping in gore— By the Have wafted these heroes to victory's shore? We swear to revenge them!—no joy shall be tasted, The harp shall be silent, the maiden unwed, Our halls shall be mute, and our fields shall lie wasted, Till vengeance is Yes, monarch! though sweet are our home recollections, Though sweet are the tears that from tenderness fall; Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes, our affections, Revenge Thomas Moore. |
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