Silent O Moyle

Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water
 Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose
 While murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter
 Tells to the night star her tale of woes
 When shall the swan, her death note singing
 Sleep with wings in darkness furled?
 When shall Heav'n, its sweet bell ringing
 Call my spirit from this stormy world?
 Sadly, oh Moyle, to thy winter wave weeping
 Fate bids me languish long ages away
 Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping
 Still doth the pure light its dawning delay
 When will that day star, mildly springing
 Warm our isle with peace and love?
 When shall Heav'n, its sweet bell ringing
 Call my spirit to the fields above?
 Call my spirit to the fields above?