. Literature, art and song: Moore's melodies and American poems; . nd while it is day yet, her sun hath gone down. Like thine doth her exile, mid dreams of far from the home it were life to behold; |Like thine do her sons, in the day of their mourning,Remember the bright things that blessd them of ok O o Ah, well may we call her, like thee the Forsaken,*Her boldest are vanquishd, her proudest are slaves; And the harps of her minstrels, when gayest they waken,Have tones mid their mirth like the wind over graves! Yet hadst thou thy vengeance—yet came there the shines ou
. Literature, art and song: Moore's melodies and American poems; . nd while it is day yet, her sun hath gone down. Like thine doth her exile, mid dreams of far from the home it were life to behold; |Like thine do her sons, in the day of their mourning,Remember the bright things that blessd them of ok O o Ah, well may we call her, like thee the Forsaken,*Her boldest are vanquishd, her proudest are slaves; And the harps of her minstrels, when gayest they waken,Have tones mid their mirth like the wind over graves! Yet hadst thou thy vengeance—yet came there the shines out, at last, on the longest dark night, /(| When the sceptre, that smote thee with slavery and sorrow, f|^^]l|Was shiverd at once, like a reed, in thy sight. When that cup, which for others the proud Golden CityHad brimmd full of bitterness, drenchd her own lips; And the world she had trampled on heard, without howl in her halls, and the cry from her ships. When the curse Heaven keeps for the haughty came overHer merchants rapacious, her rulers And, a ruin, at last, for the earthworm to cover,The Lady of Kingdoms lay low in the dust 18ri
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Keywords: ., bookauthormackenzi, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1872
