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 cords asunder;
And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the brave and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"
_Thomas Moore_.