Who knew his virtues must his death deplore

Who knew his virtues must his death deplore And long lament that Ireland is no more; Set is the sun that shone with all its rays, And claimed from every one their warmest praise.

Mute are those lips, whose mildest accents spoke Their sterling worth, down to the harmless joke; Clear-seeing his soul, for lo! that mind was one That envied nothing underneath the sun.

To speak the truth, he never was afraid; His country's weal, his country's laws obeyed; A pensive calm reigned on his noble brow, While in his eye you read the solemn vow:—

"I harm no one; no one will I betray; My duty is to watch and see fair play; My friendship is to no one set confined; My heart and hand are given to all mankind."

Oh ancient town of legendary strain When will his place in thee be filled again! For men like he, possessed of sterling worth, Are few and far between upon the earth.

Such was the man the weeping mourners mourn, Lost to his friends, ah! never to return; Fled to the spheres where he in peace must dwell, While all who knew him bid a long farewell.