THE

IRISH

MELODIES;

NATIONAL

AND

HARMONIOUS.

BY THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

IRISH MELODIES.

GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.

AIR-Maid of the Valley.

Go where glory waits thee;
But, while Fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me.
When the praise thou meetest
To thine ear is sweetest,

Oh! then remember me.
Other arms may press thee,
Dearer friends caress thee..
All the joys that bless thee

Sweeter far may be;
But when friends are nearest,
And when joys are dearest,

Oh! then remember me.
When, at eve, thou rovest,
By the star thou lovest,

Oh! then remember me.

Think when home returning,
Bright we've seen it burning.-
Oh! then remember me.

Oft, as summer closes,
When thine eye reposes,
On its ling'ring roses,
Once so loved by thee:

B

Think of her who wove them,
Her who made thee love them;
Oh! then remember me.

When, around thee, dying,
Autumn leaves are lying,
Oh! then remember me:
And, at night, when gazing
On the gay hearth blazing,
Oh! still remember me.
Then should music, stealing
All the soul of feeling,
To thy heart appealing,

Draw one tear from thee;
Then let mem❜ry bring thee
Strains I used to sing thee;
Oh! then remember me.

WAR SONG.

REMEMBER THE GLORIES OF BRIEN THE BRAVE.

AIR-Molly Macalpin.

Remember the glories of Brien the brave, (1)
Though the days of the hero are o'er;
Though lost to Mononia, (2) and cold in the grave,
He returns to Kinkorah (3) no more!

That star of the field, which so often has pour'd
Its beam on the battle, is set;

But enough of its glory remains on each sword
To light us to victory yet.

Mononia! when Nature embellish'd the tint
Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footstep of Slavery there?

No, Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign,
Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,

That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains!

Forget not our wounded companions (4) who stood,
In the day of distress by our side;

While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood.
They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died;

The sun, that now blesses our arms with his light,
Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain!

Oh! let him not blush when he leaves us to-night,
To find that they fell there in vain!

ERIN! THE TEAR AND THE SMILE IN THINE EYES.
AIR-Aileen Aroon

Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes,
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies;

Shining through sorrow's stream,

Sadd'ning through pleasure's beam,
Thy suns, with doubtful gleam,
Weep while they rise!

Erin! thy silent tear never shall cease
Erin! thy languid smile ne'er shall increase,
Till, like the rainbow's light,

Thy various tints unite,

And form, in Heaven's sight,

One arch of peace!

OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME.

AIR-The Brown Maid.

Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, i Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid!