Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LAMENT FOR GRATTAN, by THOMAS MOORE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LAMENT FOR GRATTAN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Shall the harp then be silent, when he who first gave
Last Line: Of the wisest, the bravest, the best of mankind!
Alternate Author Name(s): Little, Thomas
Subject(s): Ireland - Rebellions


SHALL the Harp then be silent, when he who first gave
To our country a name, is withdrawn from all eyes?
Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the grave,
Where the first - where the last of her Patriots lies?


No faint tho' the death- song may fall from his lips,
Tho' his Harp, like his soul, may with shadows be crost,
Yet, yet shall it sound, mid a nation's eclipse,
And proclaim to the world what a star hath been lost;


What a union of all the affections and powers
By which life is exalted , embellished , refined,
Was embraced in that spirit-whose centre was ours,
While its mighty circumference circled mankind.


Oh, who that loves Erin, or who that can see,
Thro' the waste of her annals, that epoch sublime
Like a pyramid raised in the desert -
And his glory stand out to the eyes of all time;


That one lucid interval, snatched from the gloom
And the madness of ages, when filled with his soul, ----
A Nation o'erleaped the dark bounds of her doom,
And for one sacred instant, touched Liberty's goal?


Who, that ever hath heard him - hath drank at the source
Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own,
In whose high- thoughted daring , the fire, and the force,
And the yet untamed spring of her spirit are shown


An eloquence rich, wheresoever its wave
Wandered free and triumphant, with thoughts that shone thro' ,
As clear as the brook's " stone of lustre," and gave,
With the flash of the gem, its solidity too .


Who, that ever approached him, when free from the crowd,
In a home full of love, he delighted to tread -
'Mong the trees which a nation had given, and which bowed,
As if each brought a new civic crown for his head


Is there one, who hath thus , thro ' his orbit of life
But at distance observed him thro' glory, thro' blame,
In the calm of retreat, in the grandeur of strife ,
Whether shining or clouded , still high and the same, -


Oh no, not a heart, that e'er knew him, but mourns
Deep, deep o'er the grave, where such glory is shrined
O'er a monument Fame will preserve, 'mong the urns
Of the wisest, the bravest, the best of mankind!






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