Full Lyrics
’Twas one of those dreams, that by Music are brought,
Like a bright summer haze, o’er the Poet’s warm thought—
When, lost in the future, his soul wanders on,
And all of this life, but its sweetness, is gone.
The wild notes he heard o’er the water were those
To which he had sung Erin’s bondage and woes,
And the breath of the bugle now wafted them o’er
From Dinis’ green isle, to Glena’s wooded shore.
He listen’d— while, high o’er the eagle’s rude nest,
The lingering sounds on their way loved to rest;
And the echoes sung back from their full mountain quire,
As if loath to let song to enchanting expire.
