Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

LET Erin remember the days of old,

      Ere her faithless sons betray’d her;

When Malachi wore the collar of gold,

      Which he won from her proud invader,

When her kings, with standard of green unfurl’d,

      Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger!

Ere the emerald gem of the western world

      Was set in the crown of a stranger.

On Lough Neagh’s bank as the fisherman strays,

      When the clear cold eve’s declining,

He sees the round towers of other days

      In the wave beneath him shining:

Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime,

      Catch a glimpse of the days that are over;

Thus, sighing, look through the waves of time,

      For the long-faded glories they cover.