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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530011" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Shall the Harp Then Be Silent</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall the Harp then be silent, when he who first gave <br>To our country a name, is withdrawn from all eyes? <br>Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the grave <br>Where the first -- where the last of her Patriots lies? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No -- faint though the death-song may fall from his lips, <br>Though his Harp, like his soul, may with shadows be crost, <br>Yet, yet shall it sound, 'mid a nation's eclipse, <br>And proclaim to the world what a star hath been lost; --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What a union of all the affections and powers <br>By which life is exalted, embellish'd, refined, <br>Was embraced in that spirit -- whose centre was ours, <br>While its mighty circumference circled mankind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, who that loves Erin, or who that can see, <br>Through the waste of her annals, that epoch sublime -- <br>Like a pyramid raised in the desert -- where he <br>And his glory stand out to the eyes of all time; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That one lucid interval, snatch'd from the gloom <br>And the madness of ages, when fill'd with his soul, <br>A Nation o'erleap'd the dark bounds of her doom, <br>And for one sacred instant, touch'd Liberty's goal? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who, that ever hath heard him -- hath drunk at the source <br>Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own, <br>In whose high-thoughted daring, the fire, and the force, <br>And the yet untamed spring of her spirit are shown? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">An eloquence rich, wheresoever its wave <br>Wander'd free and triumphant, with thoughts that shone through <br>As clear as the brook's &quot;stone of lustre,&quot; and gave, <br>With the flash of the gem, its solidity too. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who, what ever approach'd him, when free from the crowd, <br>In a home full of love, he delighted to read <br>'Mong the trees which a nation had given, and which bow'd, <br>As if each brought a new civic crown for his head --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is there one, who hath thus, through his orbit of life <br>But at distance observed him -- through glory, through blame, <br>In the calm of retreat, in the grandeur of strife, <br>Whether shining or clouded, still high and the same? --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh no, not a heart that e'er knew him but mourns <br>Deep, deep, o'er the grave where such glory is shrined -- <br>O'er a monument Fame will preserve 'mong the urns <br>Of the wisest, the bravest, the best of mankind!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Moore">Thomas Moore</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530011" data-title="Shall the Harp Then Be Silent de Thomas Moore" data-description="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 though the death-son..."></div>
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