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Eldaraenth The Bardic Circle   
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Untitled
By Thomas Moore
Submitted By Val Pendragon

The harp that once through Tara's halls
The souls of music shed
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled
So sleeps the pride of former days
So glorys thrill is o'er
And hearts that once beat high with praise
now feel that pulse no more

No more chiefs and ladies bright
the harp of Tara Swells;
The chord alone that breaks the night,
its tale if ruin tells.
Thus freedom now so seldom wakes,
the only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
to show that she still lives.