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(Written some twenty-three years ago by an intimate friend of Thomas Davis, and one of the earliest vriters in the cause of an uncomprising nationality.)

'T is a glorious moonlight night,

Thought the Shan van Vocht; 'T is a glorious moonlight night,

Said the Shan van Vocht :
So 't were best to take a stroll,
Where the foaming billows roll,
In soft murmurs to my soul,

Said the Shan van Vocht.

So she went down to the shore,

Did the Shan van Vocht,
And she beard the billows roar,

Did the Shan van Vocht ;

And she thought upon the time,
When in youth's so glorious prime,
All nature seemed sublime

To the Shan van Vocht.

om care,

Oh! who was once so fair

As the Shan van Vocht ? So blithe and free

As the Shan van Vocht? How glorious was her youth ! How grand her love and truth ! The bitterer now the ruth

Of the Shan van Vocht !

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Oh ! fearful grew the form

Of the Shan van Vocht!
Like a transfigured storm

Stood the Shan van Vocht!
While the intermingled tide
Of agony and pride,
With pangs intensified,

Thrilled the Shan van Vocht

For like a tongue of flame,

To the Shan van Vocht, Was the vision of her shame

To the Shan van Vocht !

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