The minitrel boy to the war is gone,

In the ranks of death you'll find him,

His father's sword he has grided on,

And his wild harp slung behind him,

"Land of song!"said the warrior bard,

"Though all the world betrays thee,

One sword, at least,thy rights shall guard,

One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The ministrel fell!-but the foeman's chain,

Could not bring his proud soul under;

The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,

For he tore its chords asunder,

And said,"No chains shall sully thee,

Thou soul of love and bravery!

Thy songs were made for the pure and free,

They shall never sound in slavery!"