Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

The Minstrel-Boy to the war is gone,

      In the ranks of death you’ll find him;

His father’s sword he has girded on,

      And his wild harp slung behind him.

"Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,

      "Though 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 his proud soul under;

The harp he loved ne’er spoke again,

      For he tore its chords asunder;

And said, "No chains shall sully thee,

      Thou soul of love and bravery!

Thy songs were made for the pure and free,

      They shall never sound in slavery."