Avenging And Bright.

A poem by Thomas Moore

Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin[1]
On him who the brave sons of Usna betrayed!
For every fond eye he hath wakened a tear in,
A drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o'er her blade.

By the red cloud that hung over Conor's dark dwelling,[2]
When Ulad's[3] three champions lay sleeping in gore--
By the billows of war, which so often, high swelling,
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 wreaked on the murderer's head.

Yes, monarch! tho' sweet are our home recollections,
Tho' sweet are the tears that from tenderness fall;
Tho' sweet are our friendships, our hopes, our affections,
Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all!

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