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The Song Book |
295 |
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CCXXVIII
AVENGING AND BRIGHT |
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By the red cloud which hung over Conner's dark dwelling, When Ulad's 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 avenge 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 be wreaked on the murderer's head !
Yes, monarch ! though sweet are our home recollections,
Though sweet are the tears that from tenderness fall ; Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes and affections, Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all.
Words by Moore. Tune Crooghan a venee. |
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