The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Thomas Moore (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.