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."