User: Can you write me a poem about douglas hyde and national university of ireland in the style of Jacob Abbott?
Assistant: Sure, here's a poem about douglas hyde and national university of ireland in the style of Jacob Abbott:
  Selections from his Prose and Poetry
Edited by T. W. ROLLESTON, M.A. (Dublin).
Edited by DOUGLAS HYDE, LL.D. (Dublin).
Edited by CHARLES L. GRAVES, M.A. (Oxon).
Edited by T. M. KETTLE, National University of Ireland.
Edited by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES, M.A. (Dublin).
Other Volumes in Preparation.          Each Crown 8vo. Cloth,
In the present edition of Thomas Davis it is designed to offer a
finally, we present a selection from his poems, containing, it is
great-grandmother, on the maternal side, was a daughter of The
imagination. As a child, Davis was delicate in health, sensitive,
At the University he sought no academic distinctions, but read
omnivorously. History, philosophy, economics, and ethics were the
gentlemen in the Association, and the middle class generally,
races, and to educate them together, that prejudice and bigotry
might be killed in the bud, was one of the projects nearest his
heart. It would strengthen the soul of Ireland with knowledge, he
"I have not tacked to any transaction in this narrative the moral
conclusions. But for once I ask those to whom this book is
dedicated to note the conduct of Catholic young men in a mortal
historic man wielding an authority made august by a life's
services, a solemn moral authority with which it is ridiculous to
described as hirelings of the Castle. But Davis was right; and of
He had had an attack of scarlet fever, from which he seemed to be
 This work, with the inclusion of the full text of the more
important of the Acts of the Parliament of James II., and with an
as the first volume of the 'New Irish Library.' It is now out of
print.
 Mr. Mongan's School on Lower Mount Street.
O'CONNELL'S revival of the Emancipation struggle--never, from the
achieved it.
bloody." But the King, Lords, and Commons of 1689, when looked at
Parliament of Ireland, could make laws to bind Ireland.
While on the one hand they restored the estates plundered by the
English from our trade, and to secure it to the Irish--while they
strenuous liberty.'
contemporary of high rank; Lesley, also a contemporary, and of
If, in addition, the reader will consult such authorities as the
Second by himself; _Histoire de la Révolution par Mazure_; and
clung to it under such a serfhood as made the rapacity of their
outbreak of 1641. That insurrection gave back to the native his
barefaced were received throughout England. Deaths, which the
unconstitutional. He impeached the corporate charters by _quo
England and Ireland, declaring the young Prince of Wales (who was
 King's "State of the Protestants." Harris's "Life of King
William," folio, Dublin, 1749, book 8. Leland's "History of
Ireland," vol. 3, book 6, chaps. 5 and 6. Lesley's "Answer to
 Thorpe's MSS.
 London, 2 vols. 4to, edited by Rev. J. Clarke.
 Spenser's "View"; Fynes Moryson's "Itinerary"; Captain Lee's
"Memoir"; Harris's "Letters"; and Carte's "Ormonde."
 See the proofs of this collected in Carey's "Vindiciæ
 Milton's "Eikonoclastes"; Warner's "History of the Rebellion";
 Sir W. Petty's "Political Anatomy of Ireland"; Lawrence's
 Hallam's "Constitutional History," v. 3, p. 588, 3rd edition.
 Speke's "Memoirs."
 See the Declaration of Union, dated 21st March, 1688, in the
Appendix to Walker's "Account of the Siege of Derry."
 These acts were done in good faith by the people, instigated
by the devices of the nobles. A letter, now admitted to have been
design of the Roman Catholics to murder the Protestants.
authorities the suppression of robberies and violence which had
millions promised him by France, he only got £150,000); the fifth
James also issued a proclamation promising liberty of conscience,
lieutenant. Eleven out of the eighteen were in England during the
lecturerships and cures in London.
overtures to some of the French agents, for casting off all
connection with that kingdom in case of James's death, and, with
islands, in case that a Protestant should succeed to the crown of
should be prepared."
From his coming to Ireland, he worked hard for his master and his
Oliverians, who till then filled the ranks. He increased the army
Jesuits--with what injustice we need hardly say. James describes
Viscount Iveagh held Drogheda at the battle of the Boyne, and was
Lord Mountcashel, by his rapidity and skill, completely broke the
Lieutenant-Colonel to Lord Lucan. His attainder under William was
 See as to this, Melfort's letter to Pottinger, the sovereign
of Belfast; "History of Belfast," pp. 72-3; Lesley _proves_, on
Williamite authority, that the Protestants were worse treated by
William's army than by James's. See Dr. Gorges in Lesley's
 He was appointed in 1686 (see Appendix B). T. W. R.
 In July, 1691, William had offered these terms: 1st. The free
public exercise of the Roman Catholic Religion. 2nd. Half the
churches in the kingdom. 3rd. Half the employments, civil and
military, if they pleased. 4th. Half their properties, as held
prior to Cromwell's conquest. The terms were at once refused. The
 Anthony Hamilton, in his "Memoirs of Grammont," exaggerates
 Clarendon's "State Letters," vol. i. and the Diary.
 Hallam's "Constitutional History," v. iii., p. 530.
 State Tracts, Will. III.'s reign, H. R.'s App. to Cox.
 "Memoirs of James II.," by the Rev. ---- Clarke, Chaplain to
George IV. These memoirs seem to have been copies of memoirs
written under James II.'s inspection, and deposited in the Scotch
thoroughly pure and wise man; or, what is more dangerous, lest we
When, in addition to these external probabilites and intrinsic
But in order to see the force of this last objection to King's
credibility, something must be known of Lesley.
altogether unreplied to.
unworthy man, but by one of his own country, neighbourhood, and
creed--by one of acknowledged virtue, high position, and vast
abilities.
King's gravest charges are in the following passage:--
"These members of the House of Commons are elected either by
small number of men named by the king, and removable at his
pleasure. The Protestant freeholders, if they had been in the
the intended trial of Mr. Price and other Protestants at Wicklow,
shire. The common way of election was thus:--The Earl of
Tyrconnell, together with the writ for election, commonly sent a
the greatest cities but twenty-four; and commonly, not half of
First let us see about the boroughs. King, in his section on the
Protestants may, as it has been alleged, have been "Quakers."
sixty-five; Waterford, forty-nine; Youghal, forty-six; Wexford,
Harris, a hostile authority, gives the names and generally the
If many Protestant freeholders had fled to England, who was to
intelligence.
The towns unrestored _could_ not have sent members to James's
Against the Commons actually elected the charge is that only six
fourteen.
Peacefully now look the long oak-clad cliffs on the happy river.
Hugh Mac Mahon, Gordon O'Nials Lieutenant-Colonel, was member for
grievance were appointed.
 Hallam ("Constitutional History," chaps. 13 and 14) contains
We trust our readers will deal like searchers for truth, not like
Charity, and Patriotism are the only powers which can loose this
Prometheus-land. Let us seek them daily in our own hearts and
conversation.
The Acts and other official documents of James's Parliament were
Standing between two dynasties--endangering the one, and almost
This was the speech with which his Majesty opened the Session:--
Defence; made me resolve to come to you, and to venture my life
Writ, _Do as you would be done to, for that is the Law and the
_It was this Liberty of Conscience I gave, which my Enemies both
Abroad and at Home dreaded; especially when they saw that I was
resolved to have it Established by Law in all my Dominions, and
made them set themselves up against me_, though for different
Reasons. Seeing that if I had once settled it, _My people_ (_in
_This Argument was made use of_, to persuade their own People
to joyn with them, and to many of my Subjects to use me as they
I expect your Concurrence in so Christian a Work, and in making
Laws against Prophaneness and all Sorts of Debauchery.
I shall also most readily consent to the making such Good and
Wholesome Laws as may be for the general Good of the Nation, the
Improvement of Trade, and the relieving of such as have been
injured by the late _Acts of Settlement_, as far forth as may
be consistent with Reason, Justice, and the Publick Good of my
And as I shall do my Part to make you Happy and Rich, I make no
Doubt of your Assistance; by enabling me to oppose the unjust
Designs of my Enemies, and to make this Nation flourish.
retreat to the Queen, my Son, and Myself, when we were forced out
Dominions; how he embraced my Interest, and gave me such Supplies
I shall conclude as I have begun, and assure you I am as sensible
you and all my Subjects happy.
These were the Acts of that memorable parliament.
An Act for punishing of persons who bring in counterfeit Coin of
landlords in England or Ireland acted with equal liberality?
An Act concerning Tythes and other Ecclesiastical Duties.
An Act regulating Tythes, and other Ecclesiastical Duties in the
An Act for the speedy Recovering of Servants' Wages.
An Act concerning Martial Law.
An Act to enable his Majesty to regulate the Duties of Foreign
An Act for the better settling Intestates' Estates.
An Act for securing the Water-Course for the Castle and City of
Explanation, etc., as it passed the House of Commons._
Combination, with the Puritan Sectaries in the Realm of _Great
disappointing the Effects of many seasonable Votes, Bills, and
Which Act was passed in a Session of the Parliament held in this
 This Preamble is James II.'s own writing, as appears by "The
"But the fact (as stated by King) is impossible: conceive the
absurdity; an act of parliament is _smuggled_, where? through two
catholics crowded with protestants; though Leland, upon the
unknown, unheard of, by all the protestant part of the kingdom,
till _peace_ was restored: and that, according to King, was to be
fifty-six peers, including primate Boyle, Barry lord Barrymore,
Angier lord Longford, Forbes, the incomparable lord Granard (of
bishop of Limerick, Bermingham lord Athenry, St. Lawrence lord
Howth, Mallon lord Glenmallon, Hamilton lord Strabane, all
was to be kept an entire secret from all the protestants without
doors, by all the protestants within the gates of parliament; and
moderation in solemnly prescribing the narrow bounds of
"A secret conspiracy BY WAY OF STATUTE against the lives of near
three thousand people, appears in itself impracticable and
protestants of Ulster, by colonel Hamilton of Tullymore, who was
sent to Dublin for the sole purpose, unanimously offered the
command of their armed association, from their confidence in his
protestant principles; but he told Mr. Hamilton THAT HE HAD LIVED
appointed secretary to the commissioners for the inspection of
forfeitures, by patent dated 1st of June, 5 William III. (1693)
_settle_ the minds" of the people of England, of any of the books
Ireland. King he was _de jure_ and _de facto_, and they sought to
As to their creed, there is no allusion to it. Roman Catholic and
denounced against both; but neither creed is named in it.
The third attaint is of persons absent before (some time probably
October, 1689, and that after his arrival they should neglect to
signify their loyalty to the satisfaction of his Majesty.
His second
And his third
Yet even in this many are attainted twice over.
By the fourth section, all the goods and properties of _all_ the
By the 9th and 11th sections, the rights and incumbrances of
 The clause for the destruction of the Records of the
parliament of 1689, is in an act annulling the attainders and all
"Be it enacted by the King's most excellent Majesty, by and with
the advice and consent of the lords spiritual and temporal and
the rolls whereon the said acts or pretended acts, and every of
lately so assembled at Dublin, pretending to be or calling
themselves by the name of a Parliament, and also all writs issued
thereof, shall, by the officers or persons in whose custody the
same are, be brought before the lord deputy, or other chief
said acts and rolls or proceedings, or any of them, do or shall
remain, shall wilfully neglect or refuse to produce the same, to
Majesty, and the other half to such person or persons that shall
sue for the same by any action of debt, bill, plaint, or
information, in any court of record whatsoever."--7 _Will. III.
"_It is possible_ an outline of some such bill might have been
prepared by one of those hot-headed people of whom James had too
many in his councils either for his safety or for his reputation,
revival of the court of claims'; a law so unparalleled from its
moderation in its review of forfeitures, by going back to
"Such a _draft of a bill_, like our own protestant bill for the
castration of Romish priests, _which did pass_ here but was
cushioned in England, or like the _threat of a bill for
been found among the baggage of the Duke of Tyrconnel, of Sir
 This is not quite correct. The penalty in the Bill, as it
passed the Irish House of Commons, was branding on the cheek.
In sending the Bill on to England the Irish Privy Council
substituted castration. The English Government restored the
original penalty. The Bill ultimately fell through, but not, it
would seem, on this point. See Lecky, "History of England,"
continued, and the sails of an invading fleet already flap in the
How difficult was their position! How could they act as freemen,
Cromwell a moiety of their usurpations) did not pass.
victory sanctioned it, and then it would be needless and cruel to
In order, then, to judge them better, let us see what the other
attainted were habitual residents in England. The bill passed the
persons as were this day _named in the house_, as they shall find
Again, on the 24th--"_Ordered_, that it be an instruction to the
The bill reached the Lords.
Wearied at length by unsuccessful bills, which the better or more
advertized for money on the forfeited lands in Ireland.
moderate spirit.
"Although James were averse from passing the acts I have already
mentioned, he probably encouraged another which passed _for the
Ireland a free and immediate trade with all our plantations and
colonies; to promote ship-building, by remitting to the owners of
taxes, and allowing them the freedom of any city or seaport they
should chuse to reside in, and improve the Irish navy by
establishing free schools for teaching and instructing in the
mathematics and the art of navigation, in Dublin, Belfast,
Waterford, Cork, Limerick, and Galway. If James looked up to any
qualified to judge of the utility of such institutions than this
prince. He was an able seaman, fond of his profession; and to his
signals and regulations. The firmness, resolution and enterprise
introduced many laws of great practical value in the business of
neglected both, and our coast had no guardian, and our desecrated
We have printed the king's speech at the opening of this eventful
 The dates about the time of this revolution are most
important. On the 10th October, 1688, William issued an address,
dated at the Hague, and another from the same place, dated 24th
October, intended to counterwork James's retractations. He landed
themselves to stand by the prince, and avenge him if he should
perish. December 23rd, William issued the letter calling the
adjourned to 20th September, and then 19th October, 1689. This
second session lasted till 27th January, 1689-90, when it was
stopped by a prorogation to the 2nd April; but before that day it
March, 1689, and as a first law, passed an act ratifying the
proceedings of the convention.
enjoyments; it is only because they are not used to taste of what
business.
Thus it is by experience--or trying to do, and often doing a
Where formal teaching is usual, as in what are called learned
apprenticeships.
Marriage, and the bringing up of children, the employment of
dependants, travel, and daily sights and society, are our chief
We pray our humbler friends to think long and often on this.
And in the trades and professions of life, to study in books the
Besides, the _first_ business of life is the improvement of one's
altogether. The books, also, are defective.
afterthought could cure.
Brag as we like, the reproach was not undeserved, nor is it quite
Thus will Ireland do naturally and honourably.
Our spirit has increased--our liberty is not far off.
independence.
Academies of art, institutes of science, colleges of literature,
And finally, we must keep our own souls, and try, by teaching and
acquirements and an elegant writer. More full references and the
correction of a few errors of detail would render his book more
_It should, in the first place, be written from the original
_Nation_. These authorities are not enough for a historian. The
Harris's "Hibernica" is a short tract on the same subject; and in
Reading-rooms.
However, persons resident in, or able to visit Dublin, Cork, or
usurpers, and mobs. History describes, and is meant to describe,
Yet the man who would keep chronicling the dry events would miss
writing a history. He must fathom the social condition of the
Such things may be done partly in disquisitions, as in Michelet's
 The following is the list of books given as the present
sources of history:--
Annals of Tigernach, abbot of Clonmacnoise, from A.D. 200 to his
death, 1188, partly compiled from writers of the eighth, seventh,
Lives of St. Patrick, St. Columbanus, etc.
Annals of the Four Masters, from the earliest times to 1616.
Other Annals, such as those of Innisfallen, Ulster, Boyle, etc.
Henry VIII. and Elizabeth.--Harris's Ware. O'Sullivan's Catholic
History. Four Masters. Spencer's View. Sir G. Carew's Pacata
Hibernia. State Papers, Temp. H. VIII. Fynes Moryson's Itinerary.
James I.--Harris's Hibernica. Sir John Davies' Tracts.
Charles I.--Strafford's Letters. Carte's Life of Ormond. Lodge's
Desiderata. Clarendon's Rebellion. Tichborne's Drogheda. State
Trials. Rinuccini's Letters. Pamphlets. Castlehaven's Memoirs.
Clanrickarde's Memoirs. Peter Walsh. Sir J. Temple.
Charles II.--Lord Orrery's Letters. Essex's Letters.
James II. and William III.--King's State of Protestants, and
George I. and II.--Swift's Life. Lucas's Tracts. Howard's Cases
under Popery Laws. O'Leary's Tracts. Boulter's Letters.
Madden's United Irishmen. Hay, Teeling, etc., on '98. Tracts.
MacNevin's State Trials. O'Connell's and Sheil's Speeches.
Plowden's History.
Compilations.--Moore. M'Geoghegan. Curry's Civil Wars. Carey's
Vindiciæ. O'Connell's Ireland. Leland.
Antiquities, Dress, Arms.--Royal Irish Academy's Transactions and
changed, and our foreign trade small. Yet was Ireland civilised.
centuries than Ireland, and we find their names and achievements
remembered through the Continent.
punishable by fines or damages, think the people of this empire
themselves.
Orderliness and hospitality were peculiarly cultivated. Public
Yet _mechanical civilisation_, more cruel than time, is trying to
lecture-rooms, and museums.
 Like many of the suggestions of Thomas Davis this has borne
fruit. In our own day the Irish Folk Song Society (20 Hanover
We were a little struck the other day in taking up a new book by
 Mellifont, founded in 1142 by O'Carroll, King of
 Again we note that, though late in the day, Davis's appeal has
been answered, and most of the important ancient monuments of the
"Would peep and botanise
Upon their mothers' graves."
restoration funds.
This island has been for centuries either in part or altogether a
antiquities, did not extend its design over those of the sister
island, which are daily becoming fewer and fewer in number. That
the gold ornaments which are so frequently found in various parts
the proprietor of the estate at New Grange to destroy that most
two of the little ancient stone Irish churches, and three most
were to be seen upon the gravestones, scarcely a dozen (and they
the least interesting) are now to be found--the large flat stones
upon the careful series of drawings made by him that future
antiquarians must rely for very much of ancient architectural
detail now destroyed. As to Glendalough, it is so much a holiday
place for the Dubliners that it is no wonder everything portable
removed and used as keystones for the arches of Derrybawn bridge.
Kitchen,' is given up to the sheep, and the font lies in one
corner, and is used for the vilest purposes. The abbey church is
choked up with trees and brambles, and being a little out of the
Irish antiquities especially interesting to the English
antiquarian; and it is with the hope of drawing attention to the
destruction of those ancient Irish monuments that I have written
these few lines. The Irish themselves are, unfortunately, so
engrossed with political and religious controversies, that it can
entertained by the people on the subject, although _practically_,
Irish Academy--receives annually the munificent sum of £300 from
purchase of the late Dean of St. Patrick's Irish Archæological
allow copies to be made, so as to obtain a return of a portion of
the collection is, it forms a striking contrast with our own
_National_ Museum, which, rich in foreign antiquities, is almost
without a single object of native archæological interest, if we
except the series of English and Anglo-Saxon coins and MSS."
The Catholic clergy were long and naturally the guardians of our
antiquities, and many of their archæological works testify their
adulatory songs of clan-bards to grave stories. Now, it is quite
Ireland, we turn with pure pleasure to their successors, the
antiquarians and historians of our own time.
 The reader who wishes to know what modern archæology has to
say of this great tumulus may be referred to Mr. George Coffey's
analogies--finding a refuge in their primeval greatness from the
testified to its merits.
Yet, we repeat, we jealously watched for flaws in Mr. Petrie's
Looking now more calmly at the discussion, we are grateful to Mr.
The first refutation is of the
John Lynch, in his _Cambrensis Eversus_, says that the Danes are
The Danes, so far from introducing stone architecture, found it
 _The Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy_, vol. xx.
 A turbulent and learned Franciscan friar who figured in the
It may be well to premise who
Here is a specimen of his etymologies. The Hebrew word _gadul_
signifies _great_, and thence a tower; the Irish name for a round
"This is another characteristic example of Vallancey's mode of
quoting authorities: he first makes O'Brien say that _Cuilceach_
misquoted and garbled--
"'CLOIG-THEACH, a steeple, a belfry; _corrupte_ Cuilg-theach.'
both, but explained a fort, a turret, and the real meaning of the
crowned by a small sepulchral mound.
"He next tells us that _Caiceach_, the last name he finds for the
_cai_, a house, and _teach_, a house, an explanation which, he
tautology he speaks of was either a creation or a blunder of his
own. It is evident to me that the Glossarist to whom he refers is
"'_Cai i. teach unde dicitur ceard cha i. teach cearda; creas cha
"'_Cai, i.e._, a house; _unde dicitur ceard-cha, i.e._, the house
between them against the diseases of each year."
Another MS. says:--
incantations, and they were used to drive the cattle between them
Mr. Petrie continues:--
"It may be remarked that remnants of this ancient custom, in
perhaps a modified form, still exist in the May-fires lighted in
fires being lighted in towers or houses of any description:--
"'The inhabitants here (Isle of Skye) did also make use of a fire
necessary number for effecting this Design, took two great Planks
repeated Efforts rubb'd one of the Planks against the other until
experience.'--_Description of the Western Islands of Scotland_
Dr. Charles O'Connor, of Stowe, is the chief supporter of the
diameter" in Persia, Turkish minarets of the tenth or fourteenth
anxiously for exact measurements and datas of oriental buildings
Mr. Windele, of Cork, besides using all the previously-mentioned
arguments for the Paganism of these towers, finds another in the
The most recent theory is that the Round Towers are
"A great king of great judgments assumed the sovereignty of Erin,
Erin was prosperous in his time, because just judgments were
distributed throughout it by him; so that no one durst attempt to
Gaibhuaiphnech, the son of Eochaidh Finn Futhairt: but afterwards
this day), and at Cenannas (Kells), and at the house of Cletech;
for it was not lawful that a king with a _personal_ blemish
Brugh; but to bury him at Ros-na-righ, with his face to the east.
grave at Ros-na-righ, as he himself had ordered.
"Oenach Cruachan, in the first place, it was there the race of
Heremon (_i.e._, the kings of Tara) were used to bury until the
time of Cremhthann, the son of Lughaidh Riabh-n-derg (who was the
Coelbregh, and Labhraidh Loingsech, and Eocho Fedhlech with his
three sons (_i.e._, the three Fidhemhna--_i.e._, Bres, Nar, and
Drebrin, Mugain, and Ele), and Adill Mac Mada with his seven
brothers (_i.e._, Cet, Anlon, Doche, _et ceteri_), and all the
Loingsech, and the province of Connaught was the peculiar
inheritance of the race of Cobhtach Coelbregh; wherefore it
(_i.e._, the province of Connaught) was given to Medhbh before
Eochaidh fit to receive it but herself, for Lughaidh was not fit
for action at the time.) And whenever, therefore, the monarchy of
Crimthann (Niadh-nar) to the time of Loeghaire, the son of Niall,
"We have already mentioned the cause for which Cormac was not
interred there. The reason why Art was not interred there is
because he 'believed,' the day before the battle of Muccramma was
thence, they could not, so that he was interred in that place
because there was a Catholic church to be afterwards at the place
righteousness.
lamentation which the men of Erin made in lamenting Niall.
interred there, and not Conaire Mor, and that Conaire Mor was the
"At Tailltin the kings of Ulster were used to bury--viz., Ollamh
face to the east, on account of the Faith which he had embraced.
"The nobles of the Tuatha De Danann were used to bury at Brugh
(_i.e._, the Dagda with his three sons; also Lughaidh and Oe, and
"The Lagenians (_i.e._, Cathair with his race and the kings who
were before them) were buried at Oenach Ailbhe. The Clann Dedad
The confusion of
We speak of their ordinary contests with England from the time of
discontent of the Pale, religious tyranny, and the intrigues and
Tyrone. The battle of Benburb affords as great a proof of Irish
soldiership as Fontenoy.
Since the day when Sarsfield sailed the Irish have never had an
disparaging Irish soldiership at home.
The materials for the history of the Irish Brigade are fast
"His Excellency, the Duke of Feltré, Minister of War, was so kind
Here are great materials for our future History of Ireland.
 See Mitchel's _Life of Hugh O'Neill_, and Meehan's _Flight of
 Owen Roe, who defeated Monro, 1646.
No other orator is so uniformly animated. No other orator has
brightened the depths of political philosophy with such vivid and
To the student of oratory Grattan's speeches are dangerously
"Sir, we may hope to dazzle with illumination, and we may sicken
with addresses, but the public imagination will never rest, nor
long as this shall be the case, that very free trade, otherwise a
fundamentally destroy. We may talk plausibly to England, but so
judge of us by other great nations, by the nation whose political
liberty.
already established, an impossibility glares us in the face, of a
We were wrong in saying there was no humour in Grattan. Here is a
episcopacy. The modus does not even alter the mode of their
abstinence which they inculcate. Is this innovation?--as if the
Protestant religion was to be propagated in Ireland, like the
influence of a minister, by bribery; or like the influence of a
county candidate, by money; or like the cause of a potwalloping
canvasser, by the weight of the purse; as if Christ could not
six for evening prayer; he baptises, he marries, he churches, he
laity, let his own order value his deserts.) £50 a year! £50! for
duties of a clergyman, as far as he is connected at all with the
Christian religion.
"By this trade of parliament the King is absolute; his will is
signified by both houses of parliament, who are now as much an
instrument in his hand as a bayonet in the hands of a regiment.
Like a regiment we have our adjutant, who sends to the infirmary
ring his bell, and order his servants out of livery to take their
"It is not life but the condition of living--the slave is not so
present, your constitution, as for that King, Lords, and Commons
who have restored both? Well, the minister has destroyed this
constitution; to destroy is easy. The edifices of the mind, like
the fabrics of marble, require an age to build, but ask only
tenendi parliamentum_, which lasted and outlasted of Plantagenet
the wars, of Tudor the violence, and of Stuart the systematic
falsehood--the condition of our connection--yes, the constitution
walk round it and round it, and the more he contemplates the more
restoration had cost Ireland her noblest efforts, and was the
"I have done with the pile which the minister batters, I come to
the Babel which he builds; and as he throws down without a
principle, so does he construct without a foundation. This fabric
people, for it excludes the Catholics; secondly, it is a
consolidation of the Irish legislatures--that is to say, a merger
submitted to a course of discussion (he does not say with what
the Catholic to deceive himself, he exhibits no other ground than
destroys the relative proportion of the Catholic inhabitants, and
Hence, according to him, their brilliant expectation: 'You were,'
English oppression, impatience, glory, and, above all, a military
Revolution of '82. Be he for ever honoured!
constitution was to be supported. The transaction between the
exposition."
This is unanswerable, but Grattan should have gone further. The
"Reader! if you be an Irish Protestant, and entertain harsh
prejudices against your Catholic countrymen, study the works and
"Reader! if you be an Irish Catholic, and that you confound the
Protestant religion with tyranny, learn from Grattan that it is
possible to be a Protestant and have a heart for Ireland and its
conscience.
disheartened.
professions or hereditary descent. From him you will learn
principles which, if carried out, would generate a new state of
society in Ireland."
 "The Select Speeches of the Right Hon. Henry Grattan. To which
is added his Letter on the Union, with a Commentary on his Career
'Twixt Croghan-Kinshela and Hook Head, 'twixt Carnsore and Mount
mutiny. They rose in mass and swept the country by sheer force.
Nor in their sinking fortunes is there anything to blush at.
Scullabogue was not burned by the fighting men.
Yet nowhere did the copper sun of that July burn upon a more
organisation, work at your education, and increase your political
Bench, the Inner Bar, and Parliament. It was won by self-denial,
Yet what was Emancipation compared to Repeal?
acceptance of a Judgeship no promotion; and it left the local
exceeding our whole representation, united, flushed, led by the
organisation of the Association; and that in turn carries on
The Conservative party, without union and without principle, is
breaking up. Its English section is dividing into the tools of
The toleration of these meetings was the result of fear; the
This is a history of two years never surpassed in importance and
recruited, resolute.
The future shall realise the promise of the past.
Dr. Kane has at length answered it, and proved the affirmative.
products and powers of Ireland, and his mastery of chemical and
mechanical science enabled him to see how these could be used.
thoughts on the need of industrial education in Ireland.
Now, let us ask the reader what he knows upon any or all of these
For the present we shall confine ourselves to the subjects of the
The first difference between manufactures now and in _any_ former
We sincerely lament, with Lord Wharncliffe, the loss of domestic
proprietors, there is much, perhaps every, hope of retaining our
homestead habits; and such a population need fear no enemy.
guarantees set the steam engine to work at our flax, wool, and
minerals.
The stone coal, or anthracite, which, having little gas, does not
efficient. It is used now in the Shannon steamers, and its use is
Rent, taxes, insurance,
five-fold, and has made the wealth of Greenock--namely, to make
"The turbine was invented by M. Fourneyron. Coals being abundant,
float-boards, on which the water presses from a cylinder which is
circumstances for being utilised.
some conditions which render it peculiarly valuable. In a
water-wheel you cannot have great economy of power without very
slow motion, and hence where high velocity is required at the
working point, a train of mechanism is necessary, which causes a
becomes of twenty horse-power; if the supply be reduced to
one-half, it still works five horse-power; whilst such sudden and
Our own predilection being in favour of water-power--as cheaper,
exertion which indolent ignorance constantly retreats behind. The
employed to give motion to mills in England, 21,000, even in the
coal districts, are not moved by fire, but by water. The force of
therefore next proceed to discuss the condition of Ireland with
regard to water-power."
Dr. Kane proves that we have at Arigna an _inexhaustible_ supply
credulity, and caprice were the weaknesses engendered in us by
misfortune and misgovernment; and they were then the allies of
Doomsday Book. That book took six years to execute, and is most
admirably analysed by Thierry.
The following is their summary account of some modern surveys:--
"In France the great territorial survey or _cadastre_ has been in
operations now in progress were fully commenced in 1808. The
principle adopted is the formation of a central commission acting
council, and by the chief officer of revenue. 'In the course of
thirteen years, one-third only of each department had been
reasons, your committee consider both unnecessary and inexpedient
verification bases; it is carried on to a second triangulation,
with very accurate instruments, so as to determine 'all the
principal points; the filling up the interior is completed by a
peculiar species of plane table; and in order to do away with the
down on a scale of twelve inches to the mile, or
one-five-thousandth part of the real size; and as it contains all
"The Neapolitan survey under Visconti, and that of the United
States under Heslar, are both stated to be in progress; but your
ascertained. How accurately this was done has been proved by an
calculated by the Ordnance triangles.
Having completed these large triangles, a detailed survey of the
It was proposed to print for each county one or more volumes,
containing the history of the district and its antiquities, the
plants, rocks, and animals are not within civil or even obvious
We now come to the last branch of the subject--
"§ 1. A fixed and uniform principle of valuation applicable
throughout the whole work, and enabling the valuation not only of
measure. § 2. A central authority, under the appointment of
government, for direction and superintendence, and for the
generalisation of the returns made in detail. § 3. Local
assistance, regularly organised, furnishing information on the
spot, and forming a check for the protection of private rights."
divisions, and the proportionate assessments. It then went on to
division or denomination of land," howsoever called. The Act also
This, as we see, relates to _civil boundaries_, not _valuations_.
Wheat, at the general average price of 10s. per cwt., of 112 lbs.
Oats, at the general average price of 6s. per cwt., of 112 lbs.
Barley, at the general average price of 7s. per cwt., of 112 lbs.
Potatoes, at the general average price of 1s. 7d. per cwt., of
Beef, at the general average price of 33s. per cwt., of 112 lbs.
Mutton, at the general average price of 34s. 6d. per cwt., of
Pork, at the general average price of 25s. 6d. per cwt., of
elevation, nearness to markets, and then estimating crops at the
Mr. Griffith's instructions are clear and full, and we strongly
recommend the study of them, and an adherence to their forms and
The ordinary valuator was to have two copies of the Townland (or
The following classification of soils was recommended:--
All soils may be arranged under four heads, each representing the
Silicious, or sandy; 3. Calcareous, or limy; 4. Peaty.
For practical purposes it will be desirable to sub-divide each of
Thus argillaceous soils may be divided into three varieties,
viz.--clay, clay loam, and argillaceous alluvial.
Of calcareous soils we have three varieties, viz.--limestone,
limestone gravel, and marl.
Of peat soils two varieties, viz.--moor, and peat or bog.
In describing in the field book the different qualities of soils,
_Friable_--Where the soil is loose and open, as is generally the
case in sandy, gravelly, and moory lands.
strong.
_Deep_--Where the soil exceeds ten inches in depth the term deep
may be applied.
_Shallow_--Where the depth of the soil is less than eight inches.
_Wet_--Where the soil or subsoil is very tenacious, or where
springs are numerous.
_Sharp_--Where there is a moderate proportion of gravel, or small
_Fine or Soft_--Where the soil contains no gravel, but is chiefly
plants.
_Sandy or Gravelly_--Where there is a large proportion of sand or
_Slaty_--Where the slaty substratum is much intermixed with the
soil.
_Worn_--Where the soil has been a long time under cultivation,
without rest or manure.
_Poor_--Where the land is naturally of bad quality.
The _colours of soils_ may also be introduced, as brown, yellow,
blue, grey, red, black, etc.
Also, where applicable, the words steep, level, shrubby, rocky,
exposed, etc., may be used."
Protestant and Catholic, native and colonist, had the same
He was as good as his word, and even whipped and humbugged the
"But it did not satisfy the English parliament, where a perpetual
exportation from Ireland of all goods made or mixed with wool,
except to England and Wales, and with the licence of the
commissioners of the revenue; duties had been before laid on the
In favour of such a thing, if it be possible, the arguments are
Some invention, which should bring the might of machinery in a
As a register of _facts--as a portrayer of men, singly, or
assembled--and as a depicter of actual scenery, art is biography,
Art is a regenerator as well as a copyist. As the historian, who
self-consistency is the only nature requisite in works purely
representers, some of them great illustrators and composers, and,
Something has been done--more remains.
The Art Union has done a great deal. It has helped to support in
The Repeal Association, too, in offering prizes for pictures and
contended for. If those who are not Repealers will treat the
The Cork School of Art owes its existence to many causes.
In the countries where art is permanent there are great
collections--Tuscany and Rome, for example. But, as we have said
before, the highest service done by success in art is not in the
capital has no school of art--no facilities for acquiring it.
without his manner.
predecessors.
structure is of the noblest order.
immediately interested in its support.
When a few of these casts are got together, and a proper gallery
National art is conversant with national subjects. We have Irish
historically exact, and the manners, appearance, and rank of the
The references are vague, but perhaps sufficient.
The Landing of the Milesians.--Keating, Moore's Melodies.
Ollamh Fodhla Presenting his Laws to his People. Keating's,
Moore's, and O'Halloran's Histories of Ireland.--Walker's Irish
Dress and Arms, and Vallancey's Collectanea.
A Druid's Augury.--Moore, O'Halloran, Keating.
The Burial of King Dathy in the Alps, his thinned troops laying
St. Patrick brought before the Druids at Tara.--Moore and his
The First Landing of the Danes.--See Invasion, Moore, etc.
Ceallachan tied to the Mast.--Keating.
Murkertach Returning to Aileach.--Archæological Society's Tracts.
Brian Reconnoitring the Danes before Clontarf.
O'Ruare's Return.--Keating, Moore's Melodies.
Roderick in Conference with the Normans.--Moore, M'Geoghegan.
O'Brien, O'Connor, and M'Carthy making Peace to attack the
O'Conor's Rerum Hibernicarum Scriptores.
Irish Chiefs leaving Prince John.--Moore, etc.
M'Murrough and Gloster.--Harris's Hibernica, p. 53.
Crowning of Edward Bruce.--Leland, Grace's Annals, etc.
Edgecombe Vainly Trying to Overawe Kildare.--Harris's Hibernica.
Shane O'Neill at Elizabeth's Court.--Leland.
The Battle of the Red Coats.--O'Sullivan's Catholic History.
The Corleius.--Dymmok's Treatise, Archæological Society's Tracts.
The Brehon before the English Judges.--Davis's Letter to Lord
Ormond Refusing to give up his Sword.--Carte's Life of Ormond.
Good Lookers-on.--Strafford's Letters.
Owen Conolly before the Privy Council, 1641.--Carey's Vindiciæ.
The Battle of Julianstown.--Temple's Rebellion, and Tichbourne's
Owen Roe Organising the Creaghts.--Carte, and also Belling and
Smoking Out the Irish.--Ludlow's Memoirs.
Burning Them.--Castlehaven's Memoirs.
Nagle before the Privy Council.--Harris's William.
James's Entry into Dublin.--Dublin Magazine for March, 1843.
The Embarkation from Limerick.--Do.
Cremona.--Cox's Magazine.
Sir S. Rice Pleading against the Violation of the Treaty of
Limerick.--Staunton's Collection of Tracts on Ireland.
Molyneux's Book burned.
Liberty Boys Reading a Drapier's Letter.--Mason's St. Patrick's
Curran Pleading before the Council in Alderman James's Case.
Tone's First Society.--See his Memoirs.
The Belfast Club.--Madden's U. I., Second Series, vol. i.
Tone and Carnot.--Tone's Memoirs.
Battle of Oulart.--Hay, Teeling, etc.
O'Connell Speaking in a Munster Chapel.--Wyse's Association.
The language, which grows up with a people, is conformed to their
What business has a Russian for the rippling language of Italy or
delicate-organed Celt to abandon his beautiful tongue, docile and
council-hill, and shouted in the battle-charge.
There is a fine song of the Fusians, which describes
"Language linked to liberty."
There was, also, 'tis to be feared, an adoption of English names,
But this is not all; for even the Saxon and Norman colonists,
But, it will be asked, how can the language be restored now?
For _you_, if the mixed speech called English was laid with
sweetmeats on your child's tongue, English is the best speech of
parishes, the baronies and counties around you, have all Irish
The want of modern scientific words in Irish is undeniable, and
Archæological Society makes us hope that they will have sense and
 'Bright water' is the true rendering: Could Davis have been
The consequence, of course, is that none of them flourish as they
And first there is the Hibernian Academy. It was founded in 1823,
instruct the proficient; it should apply itself to cataloguing,
Exhibition Rooms for works of art--business-like Lecturers and
aristocracy and the public offices, giving society and support to
mission (oftenest the work of love) to startle a sleeping and
We have already censured this in some detail with reference to
societies for the promotion of the Fine Arts, and have urged the
Architecture, with a Museum, a Library, a Gallery, and Lecturers,
The Irish Academy has some of this fault. It endeavours to unite
antiquarianism and abstract science. Its meetings are alternately
Let us just set down, as we find them, some of the Literary and
In the first place, we would divorce from the Irish Academy the
Academy to antiquities and literature--incorporate with it the
This third body we would form from a union of the Zoological, the
But an Irish lord can represent an English constituency. The
There is no position to match this in shame. There is no guilt so
knowledge that we cannot be betrayed. There is no assurance every
The writers of _The Nation_ have never concealed the defects or
soldiery.
This last is the most anti-Irish of all. They feel no personal
It is an ignorant and a false boast.
But a more important comparison may be made of the strength, the
His consolations are those of a spirit--his misery includes all
hereafter, the Lord God!
you--their huts, their hunger, their disease.
christening--makes you romp with the girls, and race with the
 _Tales and Sketches illustrating the Irish Peasantry._ By
difference between them. A German rarely comes here who has not
And now, reader, in this fine soft summer, when the heather is
Had a strong desire come upon you to toil over the glacier, whose
Glenmalure and Barnesmore are deep as Chamouni, and Carn Tual and
these descents of foreign rivers in my recollection, _I think the
that can be produced by the elements that enter into the
picturesque and the beautiful--deep shades, bold rocks, verdant
slopes, with the triumphs of art superadded, and made visible in
Varied and noble as our music is, the English-speaking people in
In former editions of the _Spirit_ we had thrown in carelessly
Duffy's--and, in a pecuniary way, it is his altogether.
 A splendid edition of this work, greatly enlarged, and printed
 The artist referred to was Sir Frederick Burton. [Ed.]
administration, or disgusted by their dulness.
_such_ a nationality.
windings.
"With a few exceptions, all the translations we are acquainted
with, in addition to having abundance of minor faults, are
sometimes a mastery over the English language. The Irish scholars
foreign tongue with the care essential to master its metrical
'Like Saul's plate armour on the shepherd boy,
Encumbering, and _not_ arming them.'
If it were just to estimate our bardic poetry by the specimens we
subtle and profound thoughts, which no translation could entirely
character of the originals. Like the costly arms and ornaments
found in our bogs, they are substantial witnesses of a distinct
ancient _torques_ and _skians_ by their embedment in the mud.
undisputed precedence in our national minstrelsy."
translations by him, exhibiting eminently his perfect mastery of
"And plant a wild wreath from the banks of the river
O'er the heart and the harp that are sleeping for ever."
But we are wrong in speaking of Mr. Ferguson's translations in
precisely the same way. His "Wicklow War Song" is condensed,
"'Come, tell me, dearest mother, what makes my father stay,
Or what can be the reason that he's so long away?'
Oh! 'hold your tongue, my darling son, your tears do grieve me
sore;
I fear he has been murdered in the fair of Turloughmore.'"
We must quote some stray verses from "Willy Gilliland":--
"Up in the mountain solitudes, and in a rebel ring,
He has worshipped God upon the hill, in spite of church and king;
For comely Claverhouse has come along with grim Dalzell,
"His blithe work done, upon a bank the outlaw rested now,
And laid the basket from his back, the bonnet from his brow;
And there, his hand upon the Book, his knee upon the sod,
He filled the lonely valley with the gladsome word of God;
And for a persecuted kirk, and for her martyrs dear,
And against a godless church and king he spoke up loud and clear.
"'My bonny mare! I've ridden you when Claver'se rode behind,
And from the thumbscrew and the boot you bore me like the wind;
"His fishing-rod with both his hands he gripped it as he spoke,
But, grasping the tough hickory butt, with spike of iron shod,
Among the Collection are Colonel Blacker's famous Orange ballad,
"Oliver's Advice" ("Put your trust in God, my boys, but keep your
falling, He rein'd his horse, with a heavy heart, on the
Enniskilleners calling; 'What will you do for me, brave boys? see
Nor less welcome is the comment:--
the sentiments of a strong, vehement, and indomitable body of
On the language of most of the ballads Mr. Duffy says:--
"Many of them, and generally the best, are just as essentially
Irish as if they were written in Gaelic. They could have grown
unconsciously reproduce the spirit of those poets better than any
day, has enabled them to infuse the ancient and hereditary spirit
stammering its passionate grief and hatred in a strange tongue,
highest duties of history, and these are best taught by a Ballad
constellation.
preserved. We shall have more to say on this in speaking of our
What a pleasant excursion to Moscow."
While, then, we counsel burdens in Historical Ballads, we would
"Press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war,
And be your Oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre."
In the old ballads this would be printed in four lines, of eight
"Press where ye see my white plume shine,
Amid the ranks of war,
And be your Oriflamme to-day
The helmet of Navarre."
So Macaulay himself prints this metre in some of his Roman Lays.
fourteen-syllable line is that in eleven syllables, such as "Mary
Assuming that the morsels given in O'Reilly's catalogue of Irish
We may remark, in passing, that on no hypothesis did these same
political lyrics, and we cannot doubt that, if translated into
Here, we would give two cautions. First--that the airs in Moore's
The tune will, of course, fix the number of lines in a verse.
Frequently the number and order of the lines can be varied. Three
Talking of double rhymes, they are peculiarly fitted for strong
gravity, and have double accents. The more familiar English words
In strong and firm tunes, having a syllable for every note is a
The sound of the air will always show the current of thought, its
Iberno-Celtic Society_ be at any loss for them.
Of course, different men and different moods will produce various
 This essay, together with another of less value, was reprinted
from _The Nation_ by M. J. Barry as an introduction to his "Songs
It is not in the name of a kingdom, nor in the formalities of
Whence is the difference? Knowledge!
administration--all the desks, and ledgers, and powers of Downing
re-organise it in three days; for the mechanical arts are very
Would it not be better for us to be like the Prussians than as we
In insisting on education we do not argue against the value of
All of us have much to learn, but some of us have much to teach.
ambitious, instead of being, like too many in Ireland, ignorant,
Munster, the castles of the Pale, the palaces and sepulchres of
But let us rather classify pursuits than countries.
Then there is the Irish Brigade. From Almanza to Fontenoy, from
Vienna, and Madrid, would be a welcomer book than the reiterated
libraries of Austria, Russia, and America.
But we would not limit men to the study of the past.
Our mineral resources and water-power are unused. A collection of
While the Gaelic-speaking people of Ireland were restricted to
"O'Connell's come to town,
And he'll put the Orange down,
And by the heavenly G---- he'll wear the crown,
stockings were wove, how many drunkards were taken up per hour in
intellectual.
galvanised them. Thus there has been, from 1842--when the Repeal
agitation became serious--an incessant progress in Literature and
exclusively, are driven to foreign studies and exposed to alien
influence.
popular in every province.
Of Tone and Grattan--the wisest and most sublime of our last
----  Thirty-two monarchs are said to have reigned between this
sovereign and Kimbaoth, who built the Palace of Emania.
accompanied by his tutor, Giraldus Cambrensis.
unanimes_," their motto.
----  Oct. 1--Siege and massacre of Wexford.
----  May 7   } The Irish Parliament summoned by him: met at the
abroad.
first independent Irish newspaper.
tenures of land, etc.
February, and 30th May. Liberation, 7th September.
oppressed. They did not deny the facts--they did not refute the
Legislature of Britain, you shall hear more of it!
maintained? The answer is directly given--"England (that is, the
English aristocracy) is bigoted," and no Ministry dare give you
generous--a struggling one will not and ought not to be so.
We are most dishonestly taxed for _your_ debts; the fact was not
diminished our taxation after the war thirty times less rapidly.
You have a fleet of steamers now--you had none in 1817, says some
delegate.
And this is your answer? We shall see--we shall see!
enemies, or the miracles of their chiefs--trust nothing, men of
Ireland, but the deep resolve of your own hearts.
You are on the right road.
The People, if they would achieve their aim, must continue their
exertions.
Nor would the success of the accused carry Repeal.
But the Queen's Bench is not the imperial Parliament, nor is the
Is there any town or district which has not a Temperance Band and
Our yet more complete triumphs in the political conflicts of the
A People known and regarded abroad will be more dignified, more
herself and of the rest of the world. And this renders foreign
information most desirable for us.
England's eulogies on herself are as false and extravagant as her
policy--localisation of power.
The Catholic will see the Protestant states of Prussia, Holland,
conscience--leaving every creed to settle its tenets with its
intrigues the real well of the bitter woes of Ireland.
conscience, an avoidance of polemics, concession to each other,
nationality.
For moral success internal union is essential.
Therefore do they and we urge the Repealers to serve notices
Stephen's, or to agitate in the Corn Exchange, or wherever else
nationality may have a temple.
candidate, he is the better man.
We have also classed morals, ability, and zeal as being quite as
requisite as national opinions in a Representative.
If our Members were a majority in the House, it might not be very
virtuous and unremitting wisdom to make her prosper.
These are some of the canons of moral force; and if, as we trust,
The People of Ireland have done well in naming the scene of their
It intimates the cause of all our misery, and suggests the cure.
Prostrated by division, union is our hope.
This, 'twill be said, is a paradise.
Alas! no--there would still be individual crime and misfortune,
government?
Protestants seem to dread?
Why on earth have so many of the People of Dublin made fools of
 The withdrawal of the Coach Contracts from Ireland is but
another instance of the same spiteful and feeble policy. Messrs.
them than of support and comfort to hundreds of families employed
remedies for popular suffering are meditating means of popular
Why, too, should Munster lead in guilt? Our richest province, our
criminal; but 'twould be wisdom and mercy compared with these
individual murders.
tracked by danger, and now intimate with crime, a less and a less
Let us prove this.
imaginable creed, or changes it any conceivable number of times.
Mr. O'Connell, who had at first seemed to incline to the opposite
The last year has been a year of hard work and hard trial to the
country and to us. Our first year was spent in rousing and
They and we succeeded.
conciliation.
It is something to have laboured through a Second Year for such a
"If a British Union cannot be formed, perhaps an Irish one might.
gradually losing '_in due course_'?
give. A hundred thousand Orangemen, with their colours flying,
might yet meet a hundred thousand Repealers on the banks of the
Boyne; and, on a field presenting so many solemn reminiscences to
banner might then be Orange and Green, flying from the Giant's
"Such a union, not to be accomplished without concession on all
sides, would remove the great offence of Irish Protestants--their
would feel themselves by Great Britain, and baptised on the banks
establish in its place a covenant of peace."
It may not now lead to anything real. Long-suffering, oft-baffled
friends.
summons another Dungannon Convention to prepare the terms of our
"We, the Grand Jury of the county of Fermanagh, being
constitutionally assembled at the present assizes, held for the
"We _pledge ourselves_ to this our country, that we will never
pay obedience to any law made, or to be made, to bind Ireland,
except those laws which are and shall be made by the King, Lords,
"Signed by order,
The announcement of this plan was received in the Commons with
knowledge, and knit the sects of Ireland in liberal and trusting
Let us look into the details of the plan.
It grants £100,000 and £18,000 a year for the foundation of three
These are the logical consequences of the doctrine of Separate
Against the nomination of Professors by Government we protest
punishment. Nay, the nomination _would_ be political. Under great
The main defect of the Bill is its omitting to deal with Trinity
When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Ireland, long a province, be
And, from that time, through wildest woe,
That hope has shone, a far light;
Nor could love's brightest summer glow
Outshine that solemn starlight:
It seemed to watch above my head
In forum, field and fane;
Its angel voice sang round my bed,
It whispered, too, that "freedom's ark
And service high and holy,
Would be profaned by feelings dark
And passions vain or lowly:
For freedom comes from God's right hand,
And needs a godly train;
And righteous men must make our land
So, as I grew from boy to man,
I bent me to that bidding--
My spirit of each selfish plan
And cruel passion ridding;
For, thus I hoped some day to aid--
Oh! can _such_ hope be vain?--
When my dear country shall be made
 The Three Hundred Greeks who died at Thermopylæ, and the
Three Romans who kept the Sublician Bridge.
The Geraldines! the Geraldines!--'tis full a thousand years
Across the downs of Hastings they spurred hard by William's side,
But never then, nor thence, till now, has falsehood or disgrace
Been seen to soil Fitzgerald's plume, or mantle in his face.
The Geraldines! the Geraldines!--'tis true, in Strongbow's van,
By lawless force, as conquerors, their Irish reign began;
Not often had their children been by Irish mothers nursed;
When from their full and genial hearts an Irish feeling burst!
The English monarchs strove in vain, by law and force and bribe,
To win from Irish thoughts and ways this "more than Irish" tribe;
and bard:
What king dare say to Geraldine, "your Irish wife discard?"
Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!--how royally ye reigned
O'er Desmond broad, and rich Kildare, and English arts disdained:
Bearbha's banks to Eóchaill.
What gorgeous shrines, what _breitheamh_ lore, what minstrel
feasts there were
In and around Magh Nuadhaid's keep, and palace-filled Adare!
Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!--since Silken Thomas flung
King Henry's sword on council board, the English thanes among,
Ye never ceased to battle brave against the English sway,
Though axe and brand and treachery your proudest cut away.
And, though Kildare tower haughtily, there's ruin at the root,
Else why, since Edward fell to earth, had such a tree no fruit?
True Geraldines! brave Geraldines!--as torrents mould the earth,
You channelled deep old Ireland's heart by constancy and worth:
When Ginckel 'leaguered Limerick, the Irish soldiers gazed
To see if in the setting sun dead Desmond's banner blazed!
And still it is the peasants' hope upon the Cuirreach's mere,
These Geraldines! these Geraldines!--rain wears away the rock
And time may wear away the tribe that stood the battle's shock;
But ever, sure, while one is left of all that honoured race,
In front of Ireland's chivalry is that Fitzgerald's place:
And men would say of valour's rise, or ancient power's decline,
"'Twill never soar, it never shone, as did the Geraldine."
The Geraldines! the Geraldines!--and are there any fears
Within the sons of conquerors for full a thousand years?
Can treason spring from out a soil bedewed with martyrs' blood?
The forms of centuries rise up, and in the Irish line
 Formerly the war-cry of the Geraldines, and now their motto.
 The concluding stanza was found among the author's papers, and
was inserted in the first edition. It is believed to have had a
personal reference, not to any Geraldine but to William Smith
AIR--_The Piper of Blessington_.
Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh--
Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh--
Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;
Yet, here's to O'Briain of Ara!
Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,
Down from the top of Camailte,
Clansman and kinsman are coming here
To give him the CEAD MILE FAILTE.
See you the mountains look huge at eve--
So is our chieftain in battle--
Welcome he has for the fugitive,--
_Uisce-beatha_ fighting, and cattle!
Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,
Down from the top of Camailte
Gossip and ally are coming here
To give him the CEAD MILE FAILTE.
Horses the valleys are tramping on,
Sleek from the Sacsanach manger--
_Creachts_ the hills are encamping on,
Empty the bawns of the stranger!
Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,
Down from the top of Camailte,
_Ceithearn_ and _buannacht_ are coming here
To give him the CEAD MILE FAILTE.
He has black silver from Cill-da-lua--
Rian and Cearbhall are neighbours--
'N Aonach submits with a _fuililiú_--
Butler is meat for our sabres!
Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar
Down from the top of Camailte,
Rian and Cearbhall are coming here
To give him the CEAD MILE FAILTE.
'Tis scarce a week since through Osairghe
Forced him five rivers to cross, or he
Had died by the sword of Red Murchadh!
Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,
Down from the top of Camailte,
All the Ui Bhriain are coming here
To give him the CEAD MILE FAILTE.
Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh--
Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh--
Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;
Yet, here's to O'Briain of Ara!
Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,
Down from the top of Camailte,
Clansman and kinsman are coming here
To give him the CEAD MILE FAILTE.
 Ara is a small mountain tract south of Loch Deirgdheire, and
north of the Camailte, or the Keeper, hills. It was the seat of a
The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's hundred isles--
And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard;
The gossips leave the little inn; the households kneel to pray--
And full of love and peace and rest--its daily labour o'er--
Upon that cosy creek there lay the town of Baltimore.
A deeper rest, a starry trance, has come with midnight there;
No sound, except that throbbing wave in earth, or sea, or air.
The massive capes and ruined towers seem conscious of the calm;
The fibrous sod and stunted trees are breathing heavy balm.
All, all asleep within each roof along that rocky street,
And these must be the lover's friends, with gently gliding feet--
And o'er each black and bearded face the white or crimson shawl--
Then flung the youth his naked hand against the shearing sword;
Then sprung the mother on the brand with which her son was gored;
Mid-summer morn, in woodland nigh, the birds began to sing--
They see not now the milking maids--deserted is the spring!
Mid-summer day--this gallant rides from distant Bandon's town--
Oh! some are for the arsenals, by beauteous Dardanelles;
And some are in the caravan to Mecca's sandy dells.
The maid that Bandon gallant sought is chosen for the Dey--
She's safe--he's dead--she stabbed him in the midst of his Serai;
She only smiled--O'Driscoll's child--she thought of Baltimore.
'Tis two long years since sunk the town beneath that bloody band,
Where high upon a gallows tree, a yelling wretch is seen--
'Tis Hackett of Dungarvan--he who steered the Algerine!
He fell amid a sullen shout, with scarce a passing prayer,
For he had slain the kith and kin of many a hundred there--
Some muttered of MacMurchadh, who brought the Norman o'er--
Some cursed him with Iscariot, that day in Baltimore.
 Baltimore is a small seaport in the barony of Carbery, in
"Did they dare, did they dare, to slay Eoghan Ruadh O'Neill?"
"Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel."
"May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!
May they walk in living death, who poisoned Eoghan Ruadh!"
"Though it break my heart to hear, say again the bitter words.
From Derry, against Cromwell, he marched to measure swords:
But the weapon of the Sacsanach met him on his way,
And he died at Cloch Uachtar, upon St. Leonard's day.
"Wail, wail ye for the Mighty One! Wail, wail ye for the Dead!
Holy Saviour! but to think we shall never see him more.
"Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall!
Sure we never won a battle--'twas Eoghan won them all.
Had he lived--had he lived--our dear country had been free;
But he's dead, but he's dead, and 'tis slaves we'll ever be.
Audley and MacMahon, ye are valiant, wise, and true;
But--what, what are ye all to our darling who is gone?
The Rudder of our Ship was he, our Castle's corner stone!
"Wail, wail him through the Island! Weep, weep for our pride!
Would that on the battle-field our gallant chief had died!
Weep the Victor of Beann-bhorbh--weep him, young men and old;
Weep for him, ye women--your Beautiful lies cold!
"We thought you would not die--we were sure you would not go,
And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell's cruel blow--
Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky--
Oh! why did you leave us, Eoghan? Why did you die?
"Soft as woman's was your voice, O'Neill! bright was your eye,
Oh! why did you leave us, Eoghan? Why did you die?
Your troubles are all over, you're at rest with God on high,
 Commonly called Owen Roe O'Neill. Time, 10th November, 1649.
Scene--Ormond's Camp, County Waterford. Speakers--A veteran of
AIR--_The Wheelwright_.
Oh! weep those days, the penal days,
When Ireland hopelessly complained.
Oh! weep those days, the penal days,
When godless persecution reigned;
When year by year,
For serf and peer,
Fresh cruelties were made by law,
And filled with hate,
Our senate sate
To weld anew each fetter's flaw.
Oh! weep those days, those penal days--
Their memory still on Ireland weighs.
They bribed the flock, they bribed the son,
To sell the priest and rob the sire;
Their dogs were taught alike to run
Upon the scent of wolf and friar.
Among the poor,
Or on the moor,
Were hid the pious and the true--
While traitor knave,
And recreant slave,
Had riches, rank, and retinue;
And, exiled in those penal days,
Our banners over Europe blaze.
A stranger held the land and tower
Of many a noble fugitive;
No Popish lord had lordly power,
The peasant scarce had leave to live;
Above his head
A ruined shed,
No tenure but a tyrant's will--
Forbid to plead,
Forbid to read
Disarmed, disfranchised, imbecile--
What wonder if our step betrays
The freedman, born in penal days?
They're gone, they're gone, those penal days!
All creeds are equal in our isle;
Then grant, O Lord, thy plenteous grace,
Our ancient feuds to reconcile.
Let all atone
For blood and groan,
For dark revenge and open wrong;
Let all unite
For Ireland's right,
And drown our griefs in freedom's song;
Till time shall veil in twilight haze,
The memory of those penal days.
From Milan to Cremona Duke Villeroy rode,
And soft are the beds in his princely abode;
In billet and barrack the garrison sleep,
And loose is the watch which the sentinels keep:
'Tis the eve of St. David, and bitter the breeze
Of that mid-winter night on the flat Cremonese;
A fig for precaution!--Prince Eugene sits down
In winter cantonments round Mantua town!
Yet through Ustiano, and out on the plain,
Horse, foot, and dragoons, are defiling amain.
"That flash!" said Prince Eugene: "Count Merci, push on"--
Like a rock from a precipice Merci is gone.
Proud mutters the Prince: "That is Cassioli's sign:
Ere the dawn of the morning Cremona'll be mine;
For Merci will open the gate of the Po,
But scant is the mercy Prince Vaudemont will shew!"
Through gate, street, and square, with his keen cavaliers--
A flood through a gulley--Count Merci careers--
They ride without getting or giving a blow,
Nor halt till they gaze on the gate of the Po.
"Surrender the gate!"--but a volley replied,
For a handful of Irish are posted inside.
By my faith, Charles Vaudemont will come rather late,
If he stay till Count Merci shall open that gate!
But in through St. Margaret's the Austrians pour,
And billet and barrack are ruddy with gore;
Unarmed and naked, the soldiers are slain--
There's an enemy's gauntlet on Villeroy's rein--
"A thousand pistoles and a regiment of horse--
Release me, MacDonnell!"--they hold on their course.
Count Merci has seized upon cannon and wall,
Prince Eugene's headquarters are in the Town-hall!
Here and there, through the city, some readier band,
For honour and safety, undauntedly stand.
At the head of the regiments of Dillon and Burke
Is Major O'Mahony, fierce as a Turk.
His sabre is flashing--the major is dress'd,
But muskets and shirts are the clothes of the rest!
Yet they rush to the ramparts, the clocks have tolled ten,
And Count Merci retreats with the half of his men.
"In on them!" said Friedberg--and Dillon is broke,
Like forest-flowers crushed by the fall of the oak;
Through the naked battalions the cuirassiers go;--
But the man, not the dress, makes the soldier, I trow
Upon them with grapple, with bay'net, and ball,
Like wolves upon gaze-hounds, the Irishmen fall--
Black Friedberg is slain by O'Mahony's steel,
And back from the bullets the cuirassiers reel.
Oh! hear you their shout in your quarters, Eugene?
In vain on Prince Vaudemont for succour you lean!
The bridge has been broken, and, mark! how, pell-mell
Come riderless horses, and volley and yell!
He's a veteran soldier--he clenches his hands,
He springs on his horse, disengages his bands--
He rallies, he urges, till, hopeless of aid,
He is chased through the gates by the IRISH BRIGADE.
News, news, in Vienna!--King Leopold's sad.
News, news, in St. James's!--King William is mad.
News, news, in Versailles!--"Let the Irish Brigade
Be loyally honoured, and royally paid."
News, news, in old Ireland!--high rises her pride,
And high sounds her wail for her children who died,
And deep is her prayer: "God send I may see
MacDonnell and Mahony fighting for me!"
Bright red is the sun on the waves of Lough Sheelin,
A cool, gentle breeze from the mountain is stealing,
While fair round its islets the small ripples play,
But fairer than all is the Flower of Finae.
Her hair is like night, and her eyes like grey morning,
She trips on the heather as if its touch scorning,
Yet her heart and her lips are as mild as May day,
Sweet Eily MacMahon, the Flower of Finae.
But who down the hill-side than red deer runs fleeter?
And who on the lake-side is hastening to greet her?
Who but Fergus O'Farrell, the fiery and gay,
The darling and pride of the Flower of Finae?
One kiss and one clasp, and one wild look of gladness;
Ah! why do they change on a sudden to sadness?--
He has told his hard fortune, no more he can stay,
He must leave his poor Eily to pine at Finae.
For Fergus O'Farrell was true to his sire-land,
And the dark hand of tyranny drove him from Ireland;
He joins the Brigade, in the wars far away,
But he vows he'll come back to the Flower of Finae.
He fought at Cremona--she hears of his story;
He fought at Cassano--she's proud of his glory.
Yet sadly she sings _Siúbhail a rúin_ all the day,
"Oh! come, come, my darling, come home to Finae."
Eight long years have passed, till she's nigh broken-hearted,
Her _reel_, and her _rock_, and her flax she has parted;
She sails with the "Wild Geese" to Flanders away,
And leaves her sad parents alone in Finae.
Lord Clare on the field of Ramillies is charging--
Before him, the Sacsanach squadrons enlarging--
Behind him the Cravats their sections display--
Beside him rides Fergus and shouts for Finae.
On the slopes of La Judoigne the Frenchmen are flying
Lord Clare and his squadrons the foe still defying,
Outnumbered, and wounded, retreat in array;
And bleeding rides Fergus and thinks of Finae.
In the cloisters of Ypres a banner is swaying,
And by it a pale, weeping maiden is praying;
That flag's the sole trophy of Ramillies' fray;
This nun is poor Eily, the Flower of Finae.
 Shule aroon.
When, on Ramillies' bloody field,
The baffled French were forced to yield,
The victor Saxon backward reeled
Before the charge of Clare's Dragoons.
The Flags we conquered in that fray
Look lone in Ypres' choir, they say,
We'll win them company to-day,
Or bravely die like Clare's Dragoons.
_Viva la_, for Ireland's wrong!
_Viva la_, for Ireland's right!
_Viva la_, in battle throng,
For a Spanish steed, and sabre bright!
The brave old lord died near the fight,
But, for each drop he lost that night,
A Saxon cavalier shall bite
The dust before Lord Clare's Dragoons.
For never, when our spurs were set,
And never, when our sabres met,
Could we the Saxon soldiers get
To stand the shock of Clare's Dragoons.
_Viva la_, the New Brigade!
_Viva la_, the Old one, too!
_Viva la_, the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!
Another Clare is here to lead,
The worthy son of such a breed;
The French expect some famous deed,
When Clare leads on his bold Dragoons.
Our Colonel comes from Brian's race,
His wounds are in his breast and face,
The _bearna baoghail_ is still his place,
The foremost of his bold Dragoons.
_Viva la_, the New Brigade!
_Viva la_, the Old one, too!
_Viva la_, the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!
There's not a man in squadron here
Was ever known to flinch or fear;
Though first in charge and last in rere,
Have ever been Lord Clare's Dragoons;
But see! we'll soon have work to do,
To shame our boasts, or prove them true,
For hither comes the English crew,
To sweep away Lord Clare's Dragoons.
_Viva la_, for Ireland's wrong!
_Viva la_, for Ireland's right!
_Viva la_, in battle throng,
For a Spanish steed and sabre bright!
Oh! comrades! think how Ireland pines,
Her exiled lords, her rifled shrines,
Her dearest hope, the ordered lines,
And bursting charge of Clare's Dragoons.
Then fling your Green Flag to the sky.
Be "Limerick" your battle-cry,
And charge, till blood floats fetlock-high,
Around the track of Clare's Dragoons!
_Viva la_, the New Brigade!
_Viva la_, the Old one, too!
_Viva la_, the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!
 Gap of danger.
AIR--_Contented I am_.
The mess-tent is full, and the glasses are set,
The veteran stands, like an uplifted lance,
Crying--"Comrades, a health to the monarch of France!"
With bumpers and cheers they have done as he bade,
For King Louis is loved by the Irish Brigade.
"A health to King James," and they bent as they quaffed,
"Here's to George the _Elector_," and fiercely they laughed,
"Good luck to the girls we wooed long ago,
Where Shannon and Barrow and Blackwater flow;"
"God prosper Old Ireland,"--you'd think them afraid,
So pale grew the chiefs of the Irish Brigade.
"But, surely, that light cannot come from our lamp,
And that noise--are they _all_ getting drunk in the camp?"
"Hurrah! boys, the morning of battle is come,
And the _générale's_ beating on many a drum."
So they rush from the revel to join the parade:
For the van is the right of the Irish Brigade.
They fought as they revelled, fast, fiery, and true,
And, though victors, they left on the field not a few;
And they who survived fought and drank as of yore,
But the land of their heart's hope they never saw more;
For in far foreign fields, from Dunkirk to Belgrade,
Lie the soldiers and chiefs of the Irish Brigade.
Thrice, at the huts of Fontenoy, the English column failed,
And twice the lines of Saint Antoine the Dutch in vain assailed;
For town and slope were filled with fort and flanking battery,
And well they swept the English ranks and Dutch auxiliary.
As vainly, through De Barri's wood, the British soldiers burst,
The French artillery drove them back, diminished, and dispersed.
The bloody Duke of Cumberland beheld with anxious eye,
And ordered up his last reserve, his latest chance to try,
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, how fast his generals ride!
And mustering come his chosen troops, like clouds at eventide.
Six thousand English veterans in stately column tread;
Their cannon blaze in front and flank, Lord Hay is at their head;
Steady they load--steady they fire, moving right onward still,
Betwixt the wood and Fontenoy, as through a furnace blast,
With ready fire and grim resolve, that mocked at hostile force:
Past Fontenoy, past Fontenoy, while thinner grew their ranks--
More idly than the summer flies, French tirailleurs rush round;
As stubble to the lava tide, French squadrons strew the ground;
Bomb-shell and grape and round-shot tore, still on they marched
and fired--
Fast from each volley grenadier and voltigeur retired.
"Push on, my household cavalry!" King Louis madly cried:
"Not yet, my liege," Saxe interposed, "the Irish troops remain."
And Fontenoy, famed Fontenoy, had been a Waterloo
Were not these exiles ready then, fresh, vehement, and true.
How fierce the look these exiles wear, who're wont to be so gay,
The treasured wrongs of fifty years are in their hearts to-day--
The treaty broken, ere the ink wherewith 'twas writ could dry,
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, nor ever yet elsewhere,
Rushed on to fight a nobler band than these proud exiles were.
O'Brien's voice is hoarse with joy, as, halting, he commands
Their bayonets the breakers' foam; like rocks, the men behind!
"Revenge, remember Limerick! dash down the Sacsanach!"
Like lions leaping at a fold when mad with hunger's pang,
Right up against the English line the Irish exiles sprang:
Through shattered ranks and severed files the trampled flags they
The green hill-side is matted close with dying and with dead.
Across the plain, and far away, passed on that hideous wrack,
While cavalier and fantassin dash in upon their track.
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, like eagles in the sun,
With bloody plumes, the Irish stand--the field is fought and won!
The church of Dungannon is full to the door,
And sabre and spur clash at times on the floor,
While helmet and shako are ranged all along,
Yet no book of devotion is seen in the throng.
In the front of the altar no minister stands,
But the crimson-clad chief of these warrior bands;
And, though solemn the looks and the voices around,
You'd listen in vain for a litany's sound.
Say! what do they hear in the temple of prayer?
Oh! why in the fold has the lion his lair?
Sad, wounded, and wan was the face of our isle,
By English oppression and falsehood and guile;
Yet when to invade it a foreign fleet steered,
To guard it for England the North volunteered.
From the citizen-soldiers the foe fled aghast--
Still they stood to their guns when the danger had passed,
For the voice of America came o'er the wave,
Crying: Woe to the tyrant, and hope to the slave!
Indignation and shame through their regiments speed:
They have arms in their hands, and what more do they need?
O'er the green hills of Ulster their banners are spread,
The cities of Leinster resound to their tread,
The valleys of Munster with ardour are stirred,
And the plains of wild Connaught their bugles have heard;
A Protestant front-rank and Catholic rere--
For--forbidden the arms of freemen to bear--
Yet foemen and friend are full sure, if need be,
The slave for his country will stand by the free.
By green flags supported, the Orange flags wave,
And the soldier half turns to unfetter the slave!
More honoured that church of Dungannon is now,
Than when at its altar communicants bow;
More welcome to heaven than anthem or prayer
Are the rites and the thoughts of the warriors there;
In the name of all Ireland the Delegates swore:
"We've suffered too long, and we'll suffer no more--
Unconquered by Force, we were vanquished by Fraud;
And now, in God's temple, we vow unto God
That never again shall the Englishman bind
His chains on our limbs, or his laws on our mind."
The church of Dungannon is empty once more--
No plumes on the altar, no clash on the floor,
But the councils of England are fluttered to see,
In the cause of their country, the Irish agree;
So they give as a boon what they dare not withhold,
And Ireland, a nation, leaps up as of old,
With a name, and a trade, and a flag of her own,
And an army to fight for the people and throne.
But woe worth the day if to falsehood or fears
She surrenders the guns of her brave Volunteers!
In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave,
And wildly along it the winter winds rave;
Small shelter, I ween, are the ruined walls there,
When the storm sweeps down on the plains of Kildare.
Once I lay on that sod--it lies over Wolfe Tone--
And thought how he perished in prison alone,
His friends unavenged, and his country unfreed--
"Oh, bitter," I said, "is the patriot's meed;
"For in him the heart of a woman combined
With a heroic life and a governing mind--
A martyr for Ireland--his grave has no stone--
His name seldom named, and his virtues unknown."
I was woke from my dream by the voices and tread
Of a band, who came into the home of the dead;
They carried no corpse, and they carried no stone,
And they stopped when they came to the grave of Wolfe Tone.
There were students and peasants, the wise and the brave,
And an old man who knew him from cradle to grave,
And children who thought me hard-hearted; for they
On that sanctified sod were forbidden to play.
But the old man, who saw I was mourning there, said:
"We come, sir, to weep where young Wolfe Tone is laid,
And we're going to raise him a monument, too--
A plain one, yet fit for the simple and true."
My heart overflowed, and I clasped his old hand,
And I blessed him, and blessed every one of his band:
"Sweet! sweet! 'tis to find that such faith can remain
To the cause, and the man so long vanquished and slain."
In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave,
And freely around it let winter winds rave--
Far better they suit him--the ruin and gloom--
A Nation's voice, a nation's voice--
It is a solemn thing!
It bids the bondage-sick rejoice--
'Tis stronger than a king.
'Tis like the light of many stars,
The sound of many waves,
Which brightly look through prison bars,
And sweetly sound in caves.
Yet is it noblest, godliest known,
When righteous triumph swells its tone.
A nation's flag, a nation's flag--
If wickedly unrolled,
May foes in adverse battle drag
Its every fold from fold.
But in the cause of Liberty,
Guard it 'gainst Earth and Hell;
Guard it till Death or Victory--
Look you, you guard it well!
No saint or king has tomb so proud
As he whose flag becomes his shroud.
A nation's right, a nation's right--
God gave it, and gave, too,
A nation's sword, a nation's might,
Danger to guard it through.
'Tis freedom from a foreign yoke,
'Tis just and equal laws,
Which deal unto the humblest folk,
As in a noble's cause.
On nations fixed in right and truth,
God would bestow eternal youth.
May Ireland's voice be ever heard
Amid the world's applause!
And never be her flag-staff stirred,
But in an honest cause!
May Freedom be her very breath,
Be Justice ever dear;
And never an ennobled death
May son of Ireland fear!
So the Lord God will ever smile,
With guardian grace, upon our isle.
Though savage force and subtle schemes,
And alien rule, through ages lasting,
Have swept your land like lava streams,
Its wealth and name and nature blasting;
Rot not, therefore, in dull despair,
Nor moan at destiny in far lands!
Face not your foe with bosom bare,
Nor hide your chains in pleasure's garlands.
The wise man arms to combat wrong,
The brave man clears a den of lions,
The true man spurns the Helot's song;
The freeman's friend is Self-Reliance!
Though France that gave your exiles bread,
Your priests a home, your hopes a station,
Or that young land where first was spread
The starry flag of Liberation,--
Should heed your wrongs some future day,
And send you voice or sword to plead 'em,
With helpful love their help repay,
But trust not even to them for Freedom.
A Nation freed by foreign aid
Is but a corpse by wanton science
Convulsed like life, then flung to fade--
The life itself is Self-Reliance!
Oh! see your quailing tyrant run
To courteous lies, and Roman agents,
His terror, lest Dungannon's sun
Should rise again with riper radiance.
Oh! hark the Freeman's welcome cheer,
And hark your brother sufferers sobbing
Oh! mark the universe grow clear,
Oh! mark your spirit's royal throbbing--
'Tis Freedom's God that sends such signs,
As pledges of his blest alliance;
He gives bright hopes to brave designs,
And lends his bolts to Self-Reliance!
Then, flung alone, or hand in hand,
In mirthful hour, or spirit solemn;
In lowly toil, or high command,
In social hall, or charging column:
In tempting wealth, and trying woe,
In struggling with a mob's dictation;
In bearing back a foreign foe,
In training up a troubled nation:
Still hold to Truth, abound in Love,
Refusing every base compliance--
Your Praise within, your Prize above,
And live and die in SELF-RELIANCE!
Has a hero died--is a nation's pride in that cold coffin laid?
"_Ululu! ululu!_ high on the wind,
There's a home for the slave where no fetters can bind.
Woe, woe to his slayers!"--comes wildly along,
With the trampling of feet and the funeral song.
And now more clear
It swells on the ear;
Breathe low, and listen, 'tis solemn to hear.
"_Ululu! ululu!_ wail for the dead.
Green grow the grass of Fingall on his head;
And spring-flowers blossom, 'ere elsewhere appearing,
And shamrocks grow thick on the Martyr for Erin.
_Ululu! ululu!_ soft fall the dew
On the feet and the head of the martyred and true."
For awhile they tread
In silence dread--
Then muttering and moaning go the crowd,
Surging and swaying like mountain cloud,
And again the wail comes fearfully loud.
"_Ululu! ululu!_ kind was his heart!
Walk slower, walk slower, too soon we shall part.
The faithful and pious, the Priest of the Lord,
His pilgrimage over, he has his reward.
By the bed of the sick lowly kneeling,
To God with the raised cross appealing--
He seems still to kneel, and he seems still to pray,
And the sins of the dying seem passing away.
"In the prisoner's cell, and the cabin so dreary,
Our constant consoler, he never grew weary;
But he's gone to his rest,
And he's now with the bless'd,
Where tyrant and traitor no longer molest--
_Ululu! ululu!_ wail for the dead!
_Ululu! ululu!_ here is his bed!"
Short was the ritual, simple the prayer,
Deep was the silence, and every head bare;
The Priest alone standing, they knelt all around,
Myriads on myriads, like rocks on the ground.
Kneeling and motionless--"Dust unto dust.
He died as becometh the faithful and just--
Placing in God his reliance and trust."
Kneeling and motionless--"ashes to ashes"--
Hollow the clay on the coffin-lid dashes;
Kneeling and motionless, wildly they pray,
But they pray in their souls, for no gesture have they;
Stern and standing--oh! look on them now.
Like trees to one tempest the multitude bow;
Like the swell of the ocean is rising their vow:
And now he is laid beyond our aid, because to Ireland true--
A martyred man--the tyrant's ban, the pious patriot slew.
"And shall we bear and bend for ever,
And shall no time our bondage sever
And shall we kneel, but battle never,
"For our own soil?
"And shall our tyrants safely reign
On thrones built up of slaves and slain,
And nought to us and ours remain
"But chains and toil?
"No! round this grave our oath we plight,
To watch, and labour, and unite,
Till banded be the nation's might--
"Its spirit steeled,
"And then, collecting all our force,
We'll cross oppression in its course,
And die--or all our rights enforce,
"On battle field."
Like an ebbing sea that will come again,
Slowly retired that host of men;
Methinks they'll keep some other day
The oath they swore on the martyr's clay.
 Written on the funeral of the Rev. P. J. Tyrrell, P.P., of
Lusk; one of those indicted with O'Connell in the Government
We must not fail, we must not fail,
However fraud or force assail;
By honour, pride, and policy,
By Heaven itself!--we must be free.
Time had already thinned our chain,
Time would have dulled our sense of pain;
By service long, and suppliance vile,
We might have won our owner's smile.
We spurned the thought, our prison burst,
And dared the despot to the worst;
Renewed the strife of centuries,
And flung our banner to the breeze.
We called the ends of earth to view
The gallant deeds we swore to do;
They knew us wronged, they knew us brave,
And all we asked they freely gave.
We took the starving peasant's mite
To aid in winning back his right,
We took the priceless trust of youth;
Their freedom must redeem our truth.
We promised loud, and boasted high,
"To break our country's chains, or die;"
And, should we quail, that country's name
Will be the synonym of shame.
Earth is not deep enough to hide
The coward slave who shrinks aside;
Hell is not hot enough to scathe
The ruffian wretch who breaks his faith.
But--calm, my soul!--we promised true
Her destined work our land shall do;
Thought, courage, patience will prevail!
We shall not fail--we shall not fail!
Chisel the likeness of The Chief,
Not in gaiety, nor grief;
Change not by your art to stone,
Ireland's laugh, or Ireland's moan.
Dark her tale, and none can tell
Its fearful chronicle so well.
Her frame is bent--her wounds are deep--
Who, like him, her woes can weep?
He can be gentle as a bride,
While none can rule with kinglier pride;
Calm to hear, and wise to prove,
Yet gay as lark in soaring love.
Well it were, posterity
Should have some image of his glee;
That easy humour, blossoming
Like the thousand flowers of spring!
Glorious the marble which could show
His bursting sympathy for woe:
Could catch the pathos, flowing wild,
Like mother's milk to craving child.
And oh! how princely were the art
Could mould his mien, or tell his heart
When sitting sole on Tara's hill,
While hung a million on his will!
Yet, not in gaiety, nor grief,
Chisel the image of our Chief,
Nor even in that haughty hour
When a nation owned his power.
But would you by your art unroll
His own, and Ireland's secret soul,
And give to other times to scan
The greatest greatness of the man?
Fierce defiance let him be
Hurling at our enemy--
From a base as fair and sure
As our love is true and pure;
Let his statue rise as tall
And firm as a castle wall;
On his broad brow let there be
A type of Ireland's history;
Pious, generous, deep and warm,
Strong and changeful as a storm;
Let whole centuries of wrong
Upon his recollection throng--
Strongbow's force, and Henry's wile,
Tudor's wrath, and Stuart's guile,
And iron Strafford's tiger jaws,
And brutal Brunswick's penal laws;
Not forgetting Saxon faith,
Not forgetting Norman scath,
Not forgetting William's word,
Not forgetting Cromwell's sword.
Let the Union's fetter vile--
The shame and ruin of our isle--
Let the blood of 'Ninety-Eight
And our present blighting fate--
Let the poor mechanic's lot,
And the peasant's ruined cot,
Plundered wealth and glory flown,
Ancient honours overthrown--
Let trampled altar, rifled urn,
Knit his look to purpose stern.
Mould all this into one thought,
Like wizard cloud with thunder fraught;
Still let our glories through it gleam,
Like fair flowers through a flooded stream,
Or like a flashing wave at night,
Bright,--'mid the solemn darkness, bright.
Let the memory of old days
Shine through the statesman's anxious face--
Dathi's power, and Brian's fame,
And headlong Sarsfield's sword of flame;
And the spirit of Red Hugh,
And the pride of 'Eighty-Two,
And the victories he won,
And the hope that leads him on!
Let whole armies seem to fly
From his threatening hand and eye.
Be the strength of all the land
Like a falchion in his hand,
And be his gesture sternly grand.
A braggart tyrant swore to smite
A people struggling for their right;
O'Connell dared him to the field,
Content to die but never yield;
Fancy such a soul as his,
In a moment such as this,
Like cataract, or foaming tide,
Or army charging in its pride.
Thus he spoke, and thus he stood,
Proffering in our cause his blood.
Thus his country loves him best--
To image this is your behest.
Chisel thus, and thus alone,
If to man you'd change the stone.
AIR--_Irish Molly O!_
Full often when our fathers saw the Red above the Green,
They rose in rude but fierce array, with sabre, pike and _scian_,
They proudly set the Irish Green above the English Red.
But in the end throughout the land, the shameful sight was seen--
And they who saw, in after times, the Red above the Green
Were withered as the grass that dies beneath a forest screen;
Yet often by this healthy hope their sinking hearts were fed,
That, in some day to come, the Green should flutter o'er the Red.
And 'twas for this that Owen fought, and Sarsfield nobly bled--
Because their eyes were hot to see the Green above the Red.
So when the strife began again, our darling Irish Green
Was down upon the earth, while high the English Red was seen;
Yet still we held our fearless course, for something in us said,
"Before the strife is o'er you'll see the Green above the Red."
And leave our sons sweet Liberty, and smiling plenty spread
Above the land once dark with blood--_the Green above the Red_!
The jealous English tyrant now has banned the Irish Green,
And forced us to conceal it like a something foul and mean;
But yet, by Heavens! he'll sooner raise his victims from the dead
And, freely as we lift our hands, we vow our blood to shed
Once and for evermore to raise the Green above the Red.
From Carrick streets to Shannon shore,
Come hear The Vow of Tipperary.
Too long we fought for Britain's cause,
And of our blood were never chary;
She paid us back with tyrant laws,
And thinned The Homes of Tipperary.
Too long with rash and single arm,
The peasant strove to guard his eyrie,
Till Irish blood bedewed each farm,
And Ireland wept for Tipperary.
But never more we'll lift a hand--
We swear by God and Virgin Mary!
And _that's_ The Vow of Tipperary!
Let Britain boast her British hosts,
About them all right little care we;
Not British seas nor British coasts
Can match the Man of Tipperary!
Tall is his form, his heart is warm,
His spirit light as any fairy--
His wrath is fearful as the storm
That sweeps the Hills of Tipperary!
Lead him to fight for native land,
His is no courage cold and wary;
The troops live not on earth would stand
The headlong charge of Tipperary!
Yet meet him in his cabin rude,
Or dancing with his dark-haired Mary,
You'd swear they knew no other mood
You're free to share his scanty meal,
His plighted word he'll never vary--
In vain they tried with gold and steel
To shake the Faith of Tipperary!
Soft is his _cailin's_ sunny eye,
Her mien is mild, her step is airy,
Her heart is fond, her soul is high--
Oh! she's the Pride of Tipperary!
Let Britain brag her motley rag;
We'll lift the Green more proud and airy--
Be mine the lot to bear that flag,
And head the Men of Tipperary!
Though Britain boasts her British hosts,
About them all right little care we--
Give us, to guard our native coasts,
The matchless Men of Tipperary!
AIR--_The Brink of the White Rocks._
When all beside a vigil keep,
The West's asleep, the West's asleep--
Alas! and well may Erin weep,
When Connaught lies in slumber deep.
There lake and plain smile fair and free,
'Mid rocks--their guardian chivalry--
Sing oh! let man learn liberty
From crashing wind and lashing sea.
That chainless wave and lovely land
Freedom and Nationhood demand--
Be sure, the great God never planned,
For slumbering slaves, a home so grand.
And, long, a brave and haughty race
Honoured and sentinelled the place--
Sing oh! not even their sons' disgrace
Can quite destroy their glory's trace.
For often, in O'Connor's van,
To triumph dashed each Connaught clan--
And fleet as deer the Normans ran
Through Corlieu's Pass and Ardrahan.
And later times saw deeds as brave;
And glory guards Clanricarde's grave--
Sing oh! they died their land to save,
At Aughrim's slopes and Shannon's wave.
And if, when all a vigil keep,
The West's asleep, the West's asleep--
Alas! and well may Erin weep,
That Connaught lies in slumber deep.
But, hark! some voice like thunder spake:
"_The West's awake! the West's awake!_"--
"Sing oh! hurra! let England quake,
We'll watch till death for Erin's sake!"
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in prostrate men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the crop so bravely sown!
No more I'll sing nor idly pine,
But train my soul to lead a line--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
No foe would fear your thunder words,
If 'twere not for your lightning swords--
If tyrants yield when millions pray,
'Tis less they link in war array;
Nor peace itself is safe, but when
The sword is sheathed by fighting men--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The rifle brown and sabre bright
Can freely speak and nobly write--
What prophets preached the truth so well
God guard the creed these heroes taught--
That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
Then, welcome be the bivouac,
The hardy stand, and fierce attack,
Where pikes will tame their carbineers,
And rifles thin their bay'neteers,
And every field the island through
Will show "what Irishmen can do!"
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death so Ireland's free!
Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel
Alone can make the English reel;
But wisdom, working day by day,
Till comes the time for passion's sway--
The patient dint and powder shock,
Can blast an empire like a rock.
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in slavish men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown.
No more I'll sing, no more I'll pine,
But train my soul to lead a line--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free.
Let the coward shrink aside,
We'll have our own again;
Let the brawling slave deride--
Here's for our own again!
Let the tyrant bribe and lie,
March, threaten, fortify,
Loose his lawyer and his spy--
Yet we'll have our own again!
Let him soothe in silken tone,
Scold from a foreign throne:
Let him come with bugles blown--
We shall have our own again!
Let us to our purpose bide,
We'll have our own again!
Let the game be fairly tried,
We'll have our own again!
Send the cry throughout the land,
"Who's for our own again?"
Summon all men to our band,--
Why not our own again?
Rich and poor, and old and young,
Sharp sword, and fiery tongue,
Soul and sinew firmly strung--
All to get our own again!
Brothers strive by brotherhood--
Trees in a stormy wood--
Riches come from Nationhood--
Sha'n't we have our own again?
Munster's woe is Ulster's bane!
Join for our own again--
Tyrants rob as well as reign--
We'll have our own again!
Oft our fathers' hearts it stirred,
"Rise for our own again!"
Often passed the signal word,
"Strike for our own again!"
Rudely, rashly, and untaught,
Uprose they, ere they ought,
Failing, though they nobly fought--
Dying for their own again!
Mind will rule and muscle yield
In senate, ship, and field:
When we've skill our strength to wield,
Let us take our own again!
By the slave his chain is wrought--
Strive for our own again.
Thunder is less strong than thought--
We'll have our own again!
Calm as granite to our foes,
Stand for our own again;
Till his wrath to madness grows,
Firm for our own again.
Bravely hope, and wisely wait,
Toil, join, and educate;
Man is master of his fate;
We'll enjoy our own again!
With a keen constrained thirst--
Powder's calm ere it burst--
Making ready for the worst--
So we'll get our own again.
Let us to our purpose bide,
We'll have our own again!
God is on the righteous side,
We'll have our own again!
We hate the Saxon and the Dane,
We hate the Norman men--
We cursed their greed for blood and gain,
We curse them now again.
Yet start not, Irish-born man!
If you're to Ireland true,
We heed not blood, nor creed, nor clan--
We have no curse for you.
We have no curse for you or yours,
But Friendship's ready grasp,
And Faith to stand by you and yours
Unto our latest gasp--
To stand by you against all foes,
Howe'er, or whence they come,
With traitor arts, or bribes, or blows,
What matter that at different shrines
We pray unto one God?
What matter that at different times
Your fathers won this sod?
In fortune and in name we're bound
By stronger links than steel;
And neither can be safe nor sound
But in the other's weal.
As Nubian rocks, and Ethiop sand
Long drifting down the Nile,
For many a hundred mile,
So Pagan clans to Ireland came,
And clans of Christendom,
Yet joined their wisdom and their fame
To build a nation from.
Here came the brown Phoenician,
The man of trade and toil--
Here came the proud Milesian,
A hungering for spoil;
And the hard, enduring Dane,
And the iron Lords of Normandy,
With the Saxons in their train.
And oh! it were a gallant deed
To show before mankind,
How every race and every creed
Might be by love combined--
Might be combined, yet not forget
The fountains whence they rose,
As, filled by many a rivulet,
The stately Shannon flows.
Nor would we wreak our ancient feud
Nor visit in a hostile mood
The hearths of Gaul or Spain;
But long as on our country lies
The Anglo-Norman yoke,
Their tyranny we'll stigmatize,
And God's revenge invoke.
We do not hate, we never cursed,
Nor spoke a foeman's word
Against a man in Ireland nursed,
Howe'er we thought he erred;
So start not, Irish-born man,
If you're to Ireland true,
We heed not race, nor creed, nor clan,
We've hearts and hands for you.
 Written in reply to some very beautiful verses printed in the
_Evening Mail_, deprecating and defying the assumed hostility
AIR--_The Protestant Boys._
Ireland! rejoice, and England! deplore--
Faction and feud are passing away.
'Twas a low voice, but 'tis a loud roar,
"Orange and Green will carry the day."
Pitted together in many a fray--
Lions in fight!
And linked in their might,
Orange and Green will carry the day.
Wave them together o'er mountain and bay.
"Orange and Green will carry the day!"
Rusty the swords our fathers unsheathed--
William and James are turned to clay--
Long did we till the wrath they bequeathed,
Red was the crop, and bitter the pay!
Freedom fled us!
Knaves misled us!
Under the feet of the foemen we lay--
Riches and strength
We'll win them at length,
For Orange and Green will carry the day!
Landlords fooled us;
England ruled us,
Hounding our passions to make us their prey;
But, in their spite,
The Irish UNITE,
And Orange and Green will carry the day!
Fruitful our soil where honest men starve;
Empty the mart, and shipless the bay;
Out of our want the Oligarchs carve;
Foreigners fatten on our decay!
Therefore blighted,
Ruined and rent by the Englishman's sway;
Party and creed
For once have agreed--
Orange and Green will carry the day!
Boyne's old water,
Red with slaughter!
Now is as pure as an infant at play;
So, in our souls,
Its history rolls,
And Orange and Green will carry the day!
English deceit can rule us no more;
Bigots and knaves are scattered like spray--
Deep was the oath the Orangeman swore,
"Orange and Green must carry the day!"
Tories and Whigs grew pale with dismay,
When from the North
Burst the cry forth,
"Orange and Green will carry the day!"
No surrender!
Never to falter and never betray--
We swear it again,
AIR--_Grádh mo chroidhe._
Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be,
All comfort else has flown;
For every hope was false to me,
And here I am, alone.
What thoughts were mine in early youth!
Like some old Irish song,
Brimful of love, and life, and truth,
My spirit gushed along.
I hoped to right my native isle,
I hoped a soldier's fame,
I hoped to rest in woman's smile
And win a minstrel's name--
Oh! little have I served my land,
No laurels press my brow,
I have no woman's heart or hand,
Nor minstrel honours now.
But fancy has a magic power,
It brings me wreath and crown,
And woman's love, the self-same hour
It smites oppression down.
Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be,
I have no joy beside;
Oh! throng around, and be to me
Power, country, fame, and bride.
'Tis pretty to see the girl of Dunbwy
Stepping the mountain statelily--
Though ragged her gown, and naked her feet,
No lady in Ireland to match her is meet.
Poor is her diet, and hardly she lies--
Yet a monarch might kneel for a glance of her eyes.
The child of a peasant--yet England's proud Queen
Has less rank in her heart, and less grace in her mien.
Her brow 'neath her raven hair gleams, just as if
A breaker spread white 'neath a shadowy cliff--
And love, and devotion, and energy speak
From her beauty-proud eye, and her passion-pale cheek.
But, pale as her cheek is, there's fruit on her lip,
And her teeth flash as white as the crescent moon's tip,
And her form and her step like the red-deer's go past--
As lightsome, as lovely, as haughty, as fast.
I saw her but once, and I looked in her eye,
And she knew that I worshipped in passing her by;
The saint of the wayside--she granted my prayer,
Though we spoke not a word, for her mother was there.
I never can think upon Bantry's bright hills,
But her image starts up, and my longing eye fills;
And I whisper her softly, "Again, love, we'll meet!
And I'll lie in your bosom, and live at your feet."
There flows from her spirit such love and delight,
That the face of Blind Mary is radiant with light--
As the gleam from a homestead through darkness will show
Or the moon glimmer soft through the fast falling snow.
Yet there's a keen sorrow comes o'er her at times,
As an Indian might feel in our northerly climes!
And she talks of the sunset, like parting of friends,
And the starlight, as love, that not changes nor ends.
Ah! grieve not, sweet maiden, for star or for sun,
For the mountains that tower or the rivers that run--
For beauty and grandeur, and glory, and light,
Are seen by the spirit, and not by the sight.
In vain for the thoughtless are sunburst and shade,
In vain for the heartless flowers blossom and fade;
While the darkness that seems your sweet being to bound
Is one of the guardians, an Eden around!
AIR--_The Swaggering Jig._
Oh! the marriage, the marriage,
With love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me,
The ladies that ride in a carriage
Might envy my marriage to me;
For Eoghan is straight as a tower,
And tender, and loving, and true;
He told me more love in an hour
Than the Squires of the county could do.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.
His hair is a shower of soft gold,
His eye is as clear as the day,
His conscience and vote were unsold
When others were carried away;
His word is as good as an oath,
And freely 'twas given to me;
Oh! sure, 'twill be happy for both
The day of our marriage to see.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.
His kinsmen are honest and kind,
The neighbours think much of his skill,
And Eoghan's the lad to my mind,
Though he owns neither castle nor mill.
But he has a tilloch of land,
A horse, and a stocking of coin,
A foot for a dance, and a hand
In the cause of his country to join.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.
We meet in the market and fair--
We meet in the morning and night--
He sits on the half of my chair,
And my people are wild with delight;
Yet I long through the winter to skim,
Though Eoghan longs more I can see,
When I will be married to him,
And he will be married to me.
Then, Oh! the marriage, the marriage,
With love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me,
The ladies that ride in a carriage,
Might envy my marriage to me.
 _Vulgo_, Owen, a name frequent among the Cymry (Welsh).
His kiss is sweet, his word is kind,
His love is rich to me;
I could not in a palace find
A truer heart than he.
The eagle shelters not his nest
From hurricane and hail,
More bravely than he guards my breast--
The wind that round the Fastnet sweeps
Is not a whit more pure--
The goat that down Cnoc Sheehy leaps
Has not a foot more sure.
No firmer hand nor freer eye
E'er faced an autumn gale--
De Courcy's heart is not so high--
The brawling squires may heed him not,
The dainty stranger sneer--
But who will dare to hurt our cot
When Myles O'Hea is here?
The scarlet soldiers pass along;
They'd like, but fear to rail;
His blood is hot, his blow is strong--
When seines are in the foam;
But money never made the man,
Nor wealth a happy home.
So, blest with love and liberty,
While he can trim a sail,
He'll trust in God, and cling to me--
How soft is the moon on Glengariff,
The rocks seem to melt with the light:
Oh! would I were there with dear Fanny,
To tell her that love is as bright;
And nobly the sun of July
O'er the waters of Adragoole shines--
Oh! would that I saw the green banner
Blaze there over conquering lines.
Oh! love is more fair than the moonlight,
And glory more grand than the sun:
And there is no rest for a brave heart,
Till its bride and its laurels are won;
But next to the burst of our banner,
And the smile of dear Fanny, I crave
The moon on the rocks of Glengariff--
The sun upon Adragoole's wave.
She is a rich and rare land;
Oh! she's a fresh and fair land;
She is a dear and rare land--
This native land of mine.
No men than her's are braver--
Her women's hearts ne'er waver;
I'd freely die to save her,
And think my lot divine.
She's not a dull or cold land;
No! she's a warm and bold land;
Oh! she's a true and old land--
This native land of mine.
Could beauty ever guard her,
And virtue still reward her,
No foe would cross her border--
No friend within it pine!
Oh! she's a fresh and fair land;
Oh! she's a true and rare land;
Yes! she's a rare and fair land--
This native land of mine.
Let the feeble-hearted pine,
Let the sickly spirit whine,
But work and win be thine,
While you've life.
God smiles upon the bold--
So, when your flag's unrolled,
Bear it bravely till you're cold
In the strife.
If to rank or fame you soar,
Out your spirit frankly pour--
Men will serve you and adore,
Like a king.
Woo your girl with honest pride,
Till you've won her for your bride--
Then to her, through time and tide,
Ever cling.
Never under wrongs despair;
Labour long, and everywhere,
Link your countrymen, prepare,
And strike home.
Thus have great men ever wrought,
Thus must greatness still be sought,
Thus laboured, loved, and fought
Shall they bury me in the deep,
Where wind-forgetting waters sleep?
Shall they dig a grave for me,
Under the green-wood tree?
Or on the wild heath,
Where the wilder breath
Of the storm doth blow?
Shall they bury me in the Palace Tombs,
Or under the shade of Cathedral domes?
Sweet 'twere to lie on Italy's shore;
Yet not there--nor in Greece, though I love it more,
In the wolf or the vulture my grave shall I find?
Shall my ashes career on the world-seeing wind?
Shall they fling my corpse in the battle mound,
Where coffinless thousands lie under the ground?
Just as they fall they are buried so--
No! on an Irish green hill-side,
On an opening lawn--but not too wide;
For I love the drip of the wetted trees--
I love not the gales, but a gentle breeze
To freshen the turf--put no tombstone there,
But green sods decked with daisies fair;
Nor sods too deep, but so that the dew,
The matted grass-roots may trickle through.
Be my epitaph writ on my country's mind,
Oh! 'twere merry unto the grave to go,
If one were sure to be buried so.