The [C] harp that once through [F] Tara's halls
its [C] soul of [G7] music [C] shed
Now hangs as mute on [G7] Tara's walls
as [C] if that soul were [G7] fled
So [C] sleeps the pride of [G7] former days
so [C] glorys thrill is [F] o'er
[G7] and [Am] hearts that once beat [F] high for praise
now [C] feel that [G7] pulse no [C] more

No more to Chiefs and ladies bright
the harp of Tara swells
the chord alone that breaks at night
its tale of 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

*** This is published everywhere. Its from about 900 AD ***