John McCullagh June 2, 2007
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We have been requested to reproduce here in full, the ballad written by the famous Thomas Moore (Moore’s Melodies) about Sarah Curran, Robert Emmet’s love.

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,
And lovers around her are sighing,
But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying.

She sings the wild songs of her dear native plain

Every note which he loved awaking;

Ah! Little they think, who delight in her strains,

How the heart of her minstrel is breaking

 

He had lived for his love, for his country he died

They were all that to life had entwined him;

Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,

Nor long will his love stay behind him.

 

Oh! Make her a grave where the sunbeams rest

Where they promise a glorious morrow;

They’ll shine o’er her sleep, like a smile from the west

From her own loved island of sorrow.

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