Weep On, Weep On

Thomas Moore 1779 (Dublin) – 1852 (Bromham)



Weep on, weep on, your hour is past,
Your dreams of pride are o'er;
The fatal chain is round you cast,
And you are men no more.
In vain the hero's heart hath bled;
The sage's tongue hath warn'd in vain;
Oh, Freedom! once thy flame hath fled,
It never lights again!

Weep on -- perhaps in after days,
They'll learn to love your name,
When many a deed may wake in praise
That long hath slept in blame.
And when they tread the ruin'd isle,
Where rest, at length, the lord and slave,
They'll wondering ask, how hands so vile
Could conquer hearts so brave?

"'Twas fate," they'll say, "a wayward fate
Your web of discord wove;
And while your tyrants join'd in hate,
You never join'd in love.
But hearts fell off that ought to twine,
And man profaned what God had given;
Till some were heard to curse the shrine
Where others knelt in heaven!"

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

51 sec read
112

Quick analysis:

Scheme AXAXBXBX CDCDEFEF GXGXHIHI
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 842
Words 162
Stanzas 3
Stanza Lengths 8, 8, 8

Thomas Moore

Thomas Moore was an Irish poet singer songwriter and entertainer now best remembered for the lyrics of The Minstrel Boy and the The Last Rose of Summer more…

All Thomas Moore poems | Thomas Moore Books

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