Silent, O Moyle

Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy waters
 Break not ye breezes, your chains 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 ringing
 Sleep with the wings in darkness furled?
 When will 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 the day star mildly springing
 Warm our isle with peace and love?
 When will heav'n, its sweet bell ringing
 Call my spirit to the fields above?
 Call my spirit to the fields above?