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And gazing on the Cromlech vast, And on the mountain and the sea,
Shall catch communion with the past And mix himself with me.
Child of the Future's doubtful night,
Whate'er your speech, whoe'er your sires,
Sing while you may with frank delight The song your hour inspires.
Sing while you may, nor grieve to know The song you sing shall also die ;
Atharna's lay has perished so, Though once it thrilled the sky.
Above us, from his rocky chair
There, where Ben-Edar's landward crest O'er eastern Bregia bends, to where
Dun-Almon crowns the west:
And all that felt the fretted air,
Throughout the song-distempered clime,
Did droop, till Leinster's suppliant prayer Appeased the vengeful rhyme.
Ah, me, or e'er the hour arrive Shall bid my long-forgotten tones,
Unknown One, on your lips revive, Here, by these moss-grown stones,
What change shall o'er the scene have cross'd What conquering lords anew have come ;
What lore-armed, mightier Druid host From Gaul or distant Rome !