But no song hath woken, whether sung or spoken.
Or hath left a token of such joy in me,
As “The Bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.”
The songs melodious, which—a new Harmodius—
“Young Ireland” wreathed round its rebel sword;
With their deep vibrations and aspirations,
Fling a glorious madness o’er the festive board;
But to me seems sweeter the melodious metre