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!
Except in war for Native Land,
And that's The Vow of Tipperary!
(A "Song of the Nation," in the late Irish rebellion.)
Он, hurrah! for the men, who, when danger is nigh,
Are found in the front, looking death in the eye.
Hurrah! for the men who kept Limerick's wall,
And hurrah! for bold Sarsfield, the bravest of all.
King William's men round Luimneach lay,
His cannon crashed from day to day,
Till the Southron wall was swept away
At the city of Luimneach lionnglas.†
'Tis afternoon, yet hot the sun,
When William fires the signal gun,
And, like its flash, his columns run
On the city of Luimneach lionnglas.
The breach gaped out two perches wide,
The fosse is filled, the batteries plied;
Can the Irishmen that onset bide
At the city of Luimneach lionnglas?
Across the ditch the columns dash,
Their bay'nets o'er the rubbish flash,
When sudden comes a rending crash
From the city of Luimneach lionnglas.
"Limerick, of the azure river."
The bullets rain in pelting shower,
And rocks and beams from wall and tower;
The Englishmen are glad to cower
At the city of Luimneach lionnglas ;
But, rallied soon, again they pressed,
Their bay'nets pierced full many a breast,
Till they bravely won the breach's crest
At the city of Luimneach lionnglas.
Then fiercer grew the Irish yell,
And madly on the foe they fell,
Till the breach grew like the jaws of hell-
Not the city of Luimneach lionnglas.
The women fought before the men,
Each man became a match for ten,
So back they pushed the villains then,
From the city of Luimneach lionnglas.
But Bradenburgh the ditch has crossed,
And gained our flank at little cost-
The bastion's gone-the town is lost;
Oh! poor city of Luimneach lionnglas.
When, sudden, Sarsfield springs the mine-
Like rockets rise the Germans fine,
And come down dead, 'mid smoke and shine,
At the city of Luimneach lionnglas.
Out, with a roar, the Irish sprung,
And back the beaten English flung,
Till William fled, his lords among,
From the city of Luimneach lionnglas.
"Twas thus was fought that glorious fight,
By Irishmen, for Ireland's right-
May all such days have such a night
As the Battle of Luimneach lionnglas.
Oh! hurrah for the men, who, when danger is nigl.
Are found in the front, looking death in the eye.
Hurrah! for the men who kept Limerick's wall,
And hurrah! for bold Sarsfield, the bravest of all.
(A "Song of the Nation" in the late Irish rebellion.)
THE hour is past to fawn or crouch
As suppliants for our right;
Let word and deed unshrinking vouch
The banded millions' might:
Let them who scorned the fountain rill,
Now dread the torrent's roar,
And hear our echoed chorus still,
We're Paddies evermore.
What though they menace, suffering men
Their threats and them despise;
Or promise justice once again,
We know their words are lies;
We stand resolved those rights to claim
They robbed us of before,
Our own dear nation and our name,
As Paddies evermore.
What reck we though six hundred years
Have o'er our thraldom rolled,
The soul that roused O'Conor's spears,
Still lives as true and bold;
The tide of foreign power to stem
Our fathers bled of yore,
And we stand here to-day, like them,
True Paddies evermore.
Where's our allegiance?
For which they nobly died;
Our duty? By our cause to stand,
Whatever chance betide;
Our cherished hope? To heal the woes, That rankle at her core;
Our scorn and hatred? To her foes,
Like Paddies evermore.
The hour is past to fawn or crouch
As suppliants for our right;
Let word and deed unshrinking vouch
The banded millions' might;
Let them who scorned the fountain rill,
Now dread the torrent's roar,
And hear our echoed chorus still,
We're Paddies evermore.
157. THE SONG OF THE POOR.
(A"Song of the Nation" in the late Irish rebellion.)
HARP of Erin, freshly pealing!
Harp, by patriot genius strung!
Scatter wide each finer feeling,
Let not strife alone be sung.
Pleased, enchanted, have I heard thee
High-born valor's praise impart,
But a nobler theme ne'er stirred thee
Than the Irish peasant's heart!
Let the hero's brow be braided,
Let the victor's crest be raised;
But the poor man strives unaided,
But the poor man sinks unpraised.
Yet, whilst woes and wrongs importune,
And gaunt death uprears his dart,
Where's the field of feller fortune
Than the Irish peasant's heart?
Well he bears him in the quarrel ;
Never knight of high degree,
For a meed of gold or laurel,
Showed a firmer front than he.
If, for wife and children only,
Blinding tears will sometimes start,
What, in all its conflict lonely,
Guides the Irish peasant's heart?
'Neath a despot's frigid scanning,
From a height he deems secure,
'Neath a bigot's saintly fanning,
Execratingly demure,
Still we see one sacred feeling
Solitary light impart,
Where his Soggarth,* lowly kneeling,
Schools the Irish peasant's heart.
Tranquil wait the birth of time!
Temp'rate, word and action be!
Whosoe'er commits a crime,
Wrongs his cause, himself, and me.
Sage endurance conquers fate,
Let oppression wince and start"-
Dangerous doctrine, men of state,
For the Irish peasant's heart!
Harp of Erin, strongly waking!
Harp, by patriot virtue strung!
Freedom's hand thy chords is shaking,
Freedom's hymn is o'er them sung.
Sound it ever! never sparing
Tyrant's rage or bigot's art;
But a peaceful promise bearing
To the Irish peasant's heart.
THE Saxons had met, and the banquet was spread,
And the wine in fleet circles the jubilee led;
And the banners that hung round the festal that night,
Seemed brighter by far than when lifted in fight.
In came the O'Kavanagh, fair as the morn,
When earth to new beauty and vigor is born:
They shrank from his glance, like the waves from the prow,
For Nature's nobility sat on his brow.
Attended alone by his vassal and bard—
No trumpet to herald, no clansmen to guard-
He came not attended by steed or by steel:
No danger he knew, for no fear did he feel.
In eye and on lip his high confidence smiled-
So proud, yet so knightly-so gallant, yet mild:
He moved like a god through the light of that hall,
And a smile, full of courtliness, proffered to all.
"Come pledge us, lord chieftain! come pledge us!" they cried; Unsuspectingly free to the pledge he replied;
And this was the peace-branch O'Kavanagh bore-
"The friendships to come, not the feuds that are o'er!"
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