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.