When Erin first rose from the dark swelling flood,
God bless'd the green island and saw it was good;
The em'rald of Europe, it sparkled and shone,
My Country! Shall I mourn, or Bless,
Thy tame and wretched happiness?
'Tis true! The vast atlantic tide
How solemn sad by Shannon's flood
The blush of morning sun appears!
To men who gave for us their blood,
Ah! what can woman give but tears?
Who took me from my mother's arms,
And, smiling at her soft alarms,
Showed me the world and Nature's charms?
O sweeter than the fragrant flower,
At evening's dewy close,
The will, united with the power,
To succour human woes!
Branch of the sweet and early rose,
That in the purest beauty grows,
So passing sweet to smell and sight,
On whom shalt thou bestow delight?