
- The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
- In the ranks of death you'll find him;
- His father's sword he hath girded on,
- And his wild harp slung behind him;
- "Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
- "Tho' all the world betrays thee,
- One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
- One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
- The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
- Could not bring that proud soul under;
- The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
- For he tore its chords asunder;
- And said "No chains shall sully thee,
- Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
- Thy songs were made for the pure and free
- They shall never sound in slavery!"
- Thomas Moore
S.
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar