 | The banshee and other poems |  |
121
THE SHAN VAN VOCHT OF '87.
1
There's a spirit in the air,Says the Shan van Vocht,
And her voice is everywhere,
Says the Shan van Vocht;
Though her eyes be full of care,
Even as Hope's, born of Despair,
Her sweet face looks young and fair,
Says the Shan van Vocht.
2
And she bears a sword of flame,Says the Shan van Vocht,
And its flash makes tyrants tame,
Says the Shan van Vocht,
For she comes old rights to claim,
And old wrongs burn up in shame:
And 'tis Justice is her name,
Says the Shan van Vocht.
122
3
There's a land I've loved of old,Says the Shan van Vocht,
For her tameless heart of gold,
Says the Shan van Vocht.
In her sorrows unconsoled,
With her thousand hearths made cold;
But that tale of shame is told,
Says the Shan van Vocht.
4
For a thing shall come to pass,Says the Shan van Vocht,
Though her foes wear fronts of brass,
Says the Shan van Vocht,
They turn pale, they quake—alas!
They have seen the Bodach-glas,
And they wither like the grass,
Says the Shan van Vocht.
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