 | My Lyrical Life |  |
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LAST LYRICS.
411
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT.
Through Centuries did Erin grope
In dust and ashes for lost hope;
Or darkly sought around her cave
An outlet from a living grave,
She sadly strove to tell her wrongs—
Grown venerably gray—in songs;
Or looked, with breast too full for speech,
Mute at the Heaven beyond her reach.
And now she turns to you, My Land!
Heart-open at your proffered hand:
Into a new life's quickening womb,
One smile of light transforms her Tomb.
In dust and ashes for lost hope;
Or darkly sought around her cave
An outlet from a living grave,
She sadly strove to tell her wrongs—
Grown venerably gray—in songs;
Or looked, with breast too full for speech,
Mute at the Heaven beyond her reach.
And now she turns to you, My Land!
Heart-open at your proffered hand:
Into a new life's quickening womb,
One smile of light transforms her Tomb.
Through Centuries of doubts and fears
She drained her Cup of bitter tears;
To the last dregs she drank it up,
And now behold an empty Cup!
With the forlornest face on earth,
And praying hands, she holds it forth—
Say, will you fill it with glad wine,
Or make it brim again with brine?
Or shall we quaff together instead
The cup that blushes a guilty red?
You have your choice; no time to halt;
Our hearts are with her in revolt!
She drained her Cup of bitter tears;
To the last dregs she drank it up,
And now behold an empty Cup!
With the forlornest face on earth,
And praying hands, she holds it forth—
Say, will you fill it with glad wine,
Or make it brim again with brine?
Or shall we quaff together instead
The cup that blushes a guilty red?
You have your choice; no time to halt;
Our hearts are with her in revolt!
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THE GREAT NEW CAUSE.
Peace, shall it be? or War to the knife?
Sentence of Death or freedom for life?
Is the bloody Vendetta to die away
As Dawn dis-purples in clear white day?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
Sentence of Death or freedom for life?
Is the bloody Vendetta to die away
As Dawn dis-purples in clear white day?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
Shall the Mother again be terribly torn,
That another Abortion may be born?
Or a nobler Nation struggle forth,
With the labour-pangs of a larger birth?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
That another Abortion may be born?
Or a nobler Nation struggle forth,
With the labour-pangs of a larger birth?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
Shall Ireland's Music be always the Caoine?
Our Rose ever seen gory-red on her Green?
Shall the smoke of her torment ascend on high
Till Death in that land is our only Ally?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
Our Rose ever seen gory-red on her Green?
Shall the smoke of her torment ascend on high
Till Death in that land is our only Ally?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
Shall the pick of a people be driven to roam
The world for ever in search of a Home,
Because we are turning their life-giving Land
Into a Desert of rootless sand?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
The world for ever in search of a Home,
Because we are turning their life-giving Land
Into a Desert of rootless sand?
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
“God save Erin,” is their cry,
As the Exiles die under every sky!
In praying or cursing, the one cry still;
“God save Erin.” As surely He will!
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
As the Exiles die under every sky!
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“God save Erin.” As surely He will!
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
John Bull is awaking at last; and John,
They warn us, is pulling his big boots on!
But we read 'twixt his smile and the gathering frown
It isn't for treading the Irish down!
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
They warn us, is pulling his big boots on!
But we read 'twixt his smile and the gathering frown
It isn't for treading the Irish down!
Stand for the Liberation Laws,
The Grand Old Man and the Great New Cause!
THE “GRAND OLD MAN.”
Shall the Tie that is binding us be but a Tether—
Nought but a Fetter between our Lands?
All the world waits for your answer, whether
We govern by Handcuffs or clasping of Hands.
Be not misled by Promoters of panic;
Be not beguiled by the Brummagem plan;
Show that your mettle's not falsely Britannic,
But true in its ring for the Grand Old Man.
Nought but a Fetter between our Lands?
All the world waits for your answer, whether
We govern by Handcuffs or clasping of Hands.
Be not misled by Promoters of panic;
Be not beguiled by the Brummagem plan;
Show that your mettle's not falsely Britannic,
But true in its ring for the Grand Old Man.
We would have England do rightly by others,
Not wrongly for us, as so long hath been done:
We would have Irishmen friendly as brothers,
Bound, if at heart we are wedded and one.
Close up the Gulf the Fire-Furies have riven!
While Curtius is with us and leading our van,
You have but to will and it must be. By heaven,
It shall be! Come, follow the Grand Old Man.
Not wrongly for us, as so long hath been done:
We would have Irishmen friendly as brothers,
Bound, if at heart we are wedded and one.
Close up the Gulf the Fire-Furies have riven!
While Curtius is with us and leading our van,
You have but to will and it must be. By heaven,
It shall be! Come, follow the Grand Old Man.
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Well may they dub him the “One-man Power,”
Standing alone where there's room but for one,
In his pride of place, like a Mountain Tower
That catches the rays of a rising Sun!
We, in the Valley of Final Decision,
Gather around him as close as we can,
To see what he sees on his Summit of Vision,
The Triumph that beckons the Grand Old Man.
Standing alone where there's room but for one,
In his pride of place, like a Mountain Tower
That catches the rays of a rising Sun!
We, in the Valley of Final Decision,
Gather around him as close as we can,
To see what he sees on his Summit of Vision,
The Triumph that beckons the Grand Old Man.
Behind us the Darkness of Tyrannies olden
Still threatens with thunders of impotent wrath;
Before us a “Sunburst” the Present makes golden;
A smile of the Future shows clearly our path.
Theirs was the Night with its blindness, its sorrow,
Its riftage of Strife where the red rivers ran;
Ours is the Dawn: and a brighter To-morrow
Shall crown with its glory the Grand Old Man.
Still threatens with thunders of impotent wrath;
Before us a “Sunburst” the Present makes golden;
A smile of the Future shows clearly our path.
Theirs was the Night with its blindness, its sorrow,
Its riftage of Strife where the red rivers ran;
Ours is the Dawn: and a brighter To-morrow
Shall crown with its glory the Grand Old Man.
A LEADER!
Up Alma's hill the Ensign went,
A Boy! but terribly intent!
His should be foremost of the Flags,
Though He and It were shot to rags!
He looked round only once, to find
The men for a moment lagged behind.
“Bring back the Colours to them!” cried
The Colonel. But the Lad replied,
“No! lead you up the men who lag,
Hurry them forward to the Flag!”
A Boy! but terribly intent!
His should be foremost of the Flags,
Though He and It were shot to rags!
He looked round only once, to find
The men for a moment lagged behind.
“Bring back the Colours to them!” cried
The Colonel. But the Lad replied,
“No! lead you up the men who lag,
Hurry them forward to the Flag!”
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So far ahead Our Ensign leads,
The laggards tell us he Secedes!
He could not stay the fight, to say
Our victory lies the Onward way!
“Bring back the Colours to the rear,
For those who fight the battle there!”
No! no! far forward He stands fast,
First with the Colours, to the last!
No cry of Laggards will he heed:
A Leader's duty is to lead.
The laggards tell us he Secedes!
He could not stay the fight, to say
Our victory lies the Onward way!
“Bring back the Colours to the rear,
For those who fight the battle there!”
No! no! far forward He stands fast,
First with the Colours, to the last!
No cry of Laggards will he heed:
A Leader's duty is to lead.
LOOKING BEFORE AND AFTER.
You say in front our Pitfalls wait
Agape to engulf us soon or late;
And open-eyed we face our fate!
Agape to engulf us soon or late;
And open-eyed we face our fate!
We say your Pitfalls lurk behind,
And, driven backward, you will find
In falling you must go it blind!
And, driven backward, you will find
In falling you must go it blind!
FALSE MARRIAGE OR TRUE UNION?
You offer what they do not want,
And what they sue for will not grant.
We give them Power, that theirs may be
A real responsibility!
You talk of Union, while each word
Is felt as Bludgeon-Sounds are heard,
When brute Wife-beaters once more try
To weld with blows Their Wedding-tie!
And what they sue for will not grant.
We give them Power, that theirs may be
A real responsibility!
You talk of Union, while each word
Is felt as Bludgeon-Sounds are heard,
When brute Wife-beaters once more try
To weld with blows Their Wedding-tie!
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You prophesy the coming wave
Will be our dear old England's grave,
Because you lack the strength of limb
And length of breath enough to swim!
You fear for self!—no fear for her!—
And Fear's a craven counsellor.
You may go under our high-tide,
The Deluge that drowns you she can ride!
Will be our dear old England's grave,
Because you lack the strength of limb
And length of breath enough to swim!
You fear for self!—no fear for her!—
And Fear's a craven counsellor.
You may go under our high-tide,
The Deluge that drowns you she can ride!
Lie as you will to circumvent,
Or trail the herring across the scent,
No more shall we defend your spoil
Taken from immemorial toil.
We will not play Cat's-paw again
To Filchers monkeying round as men.
The people set their fellows free;
One is the World's Democracy.
Or trail the herring across the scent,
No more shall we defend your spoil
Taken from immemorial toil.
We will not play Cat's-paw again
To Filchers monkeying round as men.
The people set their fellows free;
One is the World's Democracy.
Henceforth we must have Government,
Not by Coercion, but Consent.
Right shall be done at last to all,
Even though the Ancient Heavens fall
On which our Childhood hung its trust.
New Heavens will rise from their old dust,
To loftier heights, with larger span,
And ampler space for grown-up man.
Not by Coercion, but Consent.
Right shall be done at last to all,
Even though the Ancient Heavens fall
On which our Childhood hung its trust.
New Heavens will rise from their old dust,
To loftier heights, with larger span,
And ampler space for grown-up man.
The Torch of Freedom God hath lit,
Burns upward for the Infinite,
And through all hindrances it will,
And must, and shall burn Upward still.
And all who try to hold the Torch
Inverted, will to ashes scorch;
And all who stay the upward aim
Shall shrivel like the Fly in flame.
Burns upward for the Infinite,
And through all hindrances it will,
And must, and shall burn Upward still.
And all who try to hold the Torch
Inverted, will to ashes scorch;
And all who stay the upward aim
Shall shrivel like the Fly in flame.
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JOHN BRIGHT.
Thou hast done good work in thy day, John!
Thou wert foremost in many a fray, John!
Thou shouldst have been first to the end.
But to halt when they sound the advance, John!
Thou art losing a glorious chance, John!
Of dying the People's Friend!
Thou wert foremost in many a fray, John!
Thou shouldst have been first to the end.
But to halt when they sound the advance, John!
Thou art losing a glorious chance, John!
Of dying the People's Friend!
Once thou wert terribly feared, John!
The enemy spat on the beard, John!
Of the Rebel so radical then!
And to see how they slaver thee now, John!
Their Model for Statesmen art Thou, John!
Their man who art Monarch of men!
The enemy spat on the beard, John!
Of the Rebel so radical then!
And to see how they slaver thee now, John!
Their Model for Statesmen art Thou, John!
Their man who art Monarch of men!
'Tis Here and 'tis Now that we test, John!
All sympathies for the Oppressed, John!
Not in far-off lands or the Past.
'Tis Here and 'tis Now We can give, John!
New leave for a people to live, John!
In a Union with Us that shall last.
All sympathies for the Oppressed, John!
Not in far-off lands or the Past.
'Tis Here and 'tis Now We can give, John!
New leave for a people to live, John!
In a Union with Us that shall last.
But faint hearts have gone far enough, John!
The road is so long and so rough, John!
That many fall out by the way:
And 'tis dark—for the Stars are withdrawn, John!
Before we can see the fresh Dawn, John!
That brings in the perfectest day.
The road is so long and so rough, John!
That many fall out by the way:
And 'tis dark—for the Stars are withdrawn, John!
Before we can see the fresh Dawn, John!
That brings in the perfectest day.
The fastest of Friends will now fail us, John!
Worse than our Foes they assail us, John!
Like fighters of Parthian mould.
And some have got tired with age, John!
Yet the Future must turn its new page, John!
And the People can never grow old.
Worse than our Foes they assail us, John!
Like fighters of Parthian mould.
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Yet the Future must turn its new page, John!
And the People can never grow old.
Thy hand for a parting shake, John!
Heartily cordial, we take, John!
If the old ties thou wilt tear.
But Our battle must still go on, John!
Victories have to be won, John!
Though Thou wilt not be with us there.
Heartily cordial, we take, John!
If the old ties thou wilt tear.
But Our battle must still go on, John!
Victories have to be won, John!
Though Thou wilt not be with us there.
THE PRIMROSE DAME.
Your Primrose Dame is a likely Lass,
To wile and wheedle the Working Class
Of their Votes—her end and aim!
A vision of beauty, in by-way or street,
Is the glance of her face, or a glimpse of her feet,—
When a-foot is the Primrose Dame.
To wile and wheedle the Working Class
Of their Votes—her end and aim!
A vision of beauty, in by-way or street,
Is the glance of her face, or a glimpse of her feet,—
When a-foot is the Primrose Dame.
The men used to suffer the brunt of the strife,—
Kissed the children, Courted the Wife,
And cured the halt and the lame;
But they who once lorded it over the poll
Now send out the women to cadge and cajole,—
Pray you pity the Primrose Dame!
Kissed the children, Courted the Wife,
And cured the halt and the lame;
But they who once lorded it over the poll
Now send out the women to cadge and cajole,—
Pray you pity the Primrose Dame!
We're all of One flesh, at Election time,
Whether white-powdered or black with grime,—
Skim-milk, or Crême de la crême;
Open-armed at your door she knocks,
Wants to pry into the Ballot-box,
Does the promising Primrose Dame.
Whether white-powdered or black with grime,—
Skim-milk, or Crême de la crême;
Open-armed at your door she knocks,
Wants to pry into the Ballot-box,
Does the promising Primrose Dame.
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Soliciting Votes, she is not shy,
Will let you light your pipe at her eye,—
Kindle your fire with her flame;
But beware of the Snare when you see the smile,
Under the Primrose she can beguile.
'Tis the Beaconsfield Primrose Dame!
Will let you light your pipe at her eye,—
Kindle your fire with her flame;
But beware of the Snare when you see the smile,
Under the Primrose she can beguile.
'Tis the Beaconsfield Primrose Dame!
“Refreshments at five, in the Primrose Bower!
You will come? You will wear it? My favourite flower?
His flower who gave it his fame!”
And the touch is of velvet, the look is of love:
But beware of the claw that is sheathed in the glove
Of the Beaconsfield Primrose Dame.
You will come? You will wear it? My favourite flower?
His flower who gave it his fame!”
And the touch is of velvet, the look is of love:
But beware of the claw that is sheathed in the glove
Of the Beaconsfield Primrose Dame.
She will scatter her perfume around you in showers,
Wrung from the lives of our Human Flowers,
Without thought of shame or blame;
And the Roses of Health, that were ruthlessly torn
From the cheeks of your Children are wantonly worn
In the Robe of the Primrose Dame.
Wrung from the lives of our Human Flowers,
Without thought of shame or blame;
And the Roses of Health, that were ruthlessly torn
From the cheeks of your Children are wantonly worn
In the Robe of the Primrose Dame.
She simply asks to be mounted astride
The British Lion—thinks she can guide,
And the rampant animal tame,
If he will only give her his trust;
If he will only kneel down in the dust
To carry the Primrose Dame.
The British Lion—thinks she can guide,
And the rampant animal tame,
If he will only give her his trust;
If he will only kneel down in the dust
To carry the Primrose Dame.
Her charm for leading the beast by the nose
Is the brazenest image, a gilt primrose,—
What a meal for an empty wame!
You Flower of Shams, with your counterfeit,
If the Brute should be tempted either to eat,—
Let us pray for the Primrose Dame!
Is the brazenest image, a gilt primrose,—
What a meal for an empty wame!
You Flower of Shams, with your counterfeit,
If the Brute should be tempted either to eat,—
Let us pray for the Primrose Dame!
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BATTLE OF THE RANK AND FILE.
'Tis a proud Story! how through mist and mire,
All facing straight for death, our fellows ran
To warm them that cold day at the Russian fire,
And fight the Soldiers' battle of Inkerman!
All facing straight for death, our fellows ran
To warm them that cold day at the Russian fire,
And fight the Soldiers' battle of Inkerman!
No time for orders; none for falling in;
They only knew their duty was to stem
The tide of onset; and their work, to win
The desperate battle—that was won by them.
They only knew their duty was to stem
The tide of onset; and their work, to win
The desperate battle—that was won by them.
It is Our Inkerman we fight to-day!
False friends behind us, worse than foes in front;
One half our Officers have run away;
The Rank and File must bravelier bear the brunt!
False friends behind us, worse than foes in front;
One half our Officers have run away;
The Rank and File must bravelier bear the brunt!
No matter where our place is on the field;
Each one must be all there, whether to stem
The tide, or stop the gap, and never yield.
The People's battle must be won by them!
Each one must be all there, whether to stem
The tide, or stop the gap, and never yield.
The People's battle must be won by them!
THE LEAGUE OF LABOUR.
Long on the Mountain Summit
We fed the Watch-fire's flame;
We hailed and beckoned from it
The help that never came!
We heard the distance humming,
With sounds o' the Battle-Drum:
We dreamed the Prince was coming,
And lo! the Prince has come,—
'Tis our Enfranchised Neighbour
Who joins the League of Labour
To end our martyrdom.
We fed the Watch-fire's flame;
We hailed and beckoned from it
The help that never came!
We heard the distance humming,
With sounds o' the Battle-Drum:
We dreamed the Prince was coming,
And lo! the Prince has come,—
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Who joins the League of Labour
To end our martyrdom.
We brooded o'er the Story
That bade us Backward turn
To seek a By-gone Glory,
And made our spirits burn:
We tried to sing our Sorrow,
And wail our Woes, away;
We lived but for the Morrow
To free us from To-day.
Now Neighbour joins with Neighbour,
One in the League of Labour
To scare the Birds of Prey.
That bade us Backward turn
To seek a By-gone Glory,
And made our spirits burn:
We tried to sing our Sorrow,
And wail our Woes, away;
We lived but for the Morrow
To free us from To-day.
Now Neighbour joins with Neighbour,
One in the League of Labour
To scare the Birds of Prey.
'Twas not in maiming Cattle,
Nor desolating Homes,
That we could win our battle
By which deliverance comes.
No Tocsin from the Steeple,
No Beacons through the land,
We need, when Honest people
Each other understand,
And Neighbour joins with Neighbour,
One in the League of Labour
As Brothers hand in hand.
Nor desolating Homes,
That we could win our battle
By which deliverance comes.
No Tocsin from the Steeple,
No Beacons through the land,
We need, when Honest people
Each other understand,
And Neighbour joins with Neighbour,
One in the League of Labour
As Brothers hand in hand.
“They hardly read a letter!”
So simple are our ends,
We know not any better
Than that we may be friends.
At the new Name of “Brother”
Old feuds grow fugitive!
We have not wronged each other,
We therefore can forgive.
So Neighbour stands by Neighbour,
One in the League of Labour;
One in the right to live.
So simple are our ends,
We know not any better
Than that we may be friends.
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Old feuds grow fugitive!
We have not wronged each other,
We therefore can forgive.
So Neighbour stands by Neighbour,
One in the League of Labour;
One in the right to live.
LABOURERS' ELECTION SONG.
(Tune: “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave.”)
Ours
are the Voices that for ages were unheard,
Ours are the Voices of a Future long deferred.
Cry all Together: we shall speak the final word,
Let the Cause go marching on.
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Let the Cause go marching on.
Ours are the Voices of a Future long deferred.
Cry all Together: we shall speak the final word,
Let the Cause go marching on.
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Let the Cause go marching on.
Ours are the Votes that give us weapons we can wield,
Ours are the Votes that make our proud opponents yield.
Vote all Together, and our Charge shall clear the field,
And the Cause go marching on.
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Let the Cause go marching on.
Ours are the Votes that make our proud opponents yield.
Vote all Together, and our Charge shall clear the field,
And the Cause go marching on.
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Let the Cause go marching on.
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Ours are the Millions, though it may not be in gold,
Ours are the Millions who will right the wrongs of old.
Move all Together as the Ocean-waves are rolled,
When the Storm goes marching on.
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Let the Cause go marching on.
Ours are the Millions who will right the wrongs of old.
Move all Together as the Ocean-waves are rolled,
When the Storm goes marching on.
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Glory! glory! hallelujah!
Let the Cause go marching on.
THE LAST OF EMERGENCY MEN.
One word. Then for battle we hold in our breath,
To fight you; by God! we shall fight to the death:
Through Earth, Heaven, or Hell, and the range of Endeavour,
If need be; by God! we will fight you for ever!
To fight you; by God! we shall fight to the death:
Through Earth, Heaven, or Hell, and the range of Endeavour,
If need be; by God! we will fight you for ever!
You have drawn the first blood in our opening battle;
We score you that honour! You've tested our mettle!
And never was Battle yet fought worth the winning
But those who won last seemed to lose in beginning.
Coercion has failed you again and again,
And you are the Last of Emergency Men!
We score you that honour! You've tested our mettle!
And never was Battle yet fought worth the winning
But those who won last seemed to lose in beginning.
Coercion has failed you again and again,
And you are the Last of Emergency Men!
Our Cause is propelled by the spurn of your feet!
You kindle our furnace to sevenfold heat,
Till, as Slag from the fire, you will only be found!
E'en in turning a Treadmill our triumph comes round:
Coercion has failed you again and again,
And you are the last of Emergency Men!
You kindle our furnace to sevenfold heat,
Till, as Slag from the fire, you will only be found!
E'en in turning a Treadmill our triumph comes round:
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And you are the last of Emergency Men!
One word. Then for battle we hold in our breath,
To fight you; by God! we shall fight to the death:
Through Earth, Heaven, or Hell, and the range of endeavour,
If need be; by God! we will fight you for ever!
To fight you; by God! we shall fight to the death:
Through Earth, Heaven, or Hell, and the range of endeavour,
If need be; by God! we will fight you for ever!
HOLD TOGETHER, BOYS.
Ay, hold Together for God's sake now,
The Devil hath his hour,
And rages fiercely, knowing how
Precarious is his power!
One last grim effort, grasping hands
The gaping gulf to bridge,
Before the Channel 'twixt two lands
Runs red from ridge to ridge.
The Devil hath his hour,
And rages fiercely, knowing how
Precarious is his power!
One last grim effort, grasping hands
The gaping gulf to bridge,
Before the Channel 'twixt two lands
Runs red from ridge to ridge.
With your own life-drops warm and wet
They dangle the red rag
On Baton and on Bayonet,
As their Bull-Baiting Flag;
And palest faces well may flush,
Hearts beat the battle-drum:
But keep your Ranks and make no rush,
Till the Relief shall come.
They dangle the red rag
On Baton and on Bayonet,
As their Bull-Baiting Flag;
And palest faces well may flush,
Hearts beat the battle-drum:
But keep your Ranks and make no rush,
Till the Relief shall come.
We will be with you soon in front,
Or fighting side by side:
To-day 'tis yours to bear the brunt
So often borne with pride!
We feel no coward fear for you,
Though sore it be to bear;
We fight your battle here for you
Who fight our battle there!
Or fighting side by side:
To-day 'tis yours to bear the brunt
So often borne with pride!
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Though sore it be to bear;
We fight your battle here for you
Who fight our battle there!
For Future life keep calm as death,
For strength gulp down your ire;
Waste not a word to lose a breath,
While passing through the fire!
Worthily follow your great Dead
Who played the deathless part;
Police—who have power to break the head—
Can't break a Nation's heart.
For strength gulp down your ire;
Waste not a word to lose a breath,
While passing through the fire!
Worthily follow your great Dead
Who played the deathless part;
Police—who have power to break the head—
Can't break a Nation's heart.
TO-MORROW!
Though not yet freed—from England's Soul
There's one more Fetter broken!
The spirit that will reach the goal,
And win at last, has spoken.
We Swear—and all the world has heard—
To end this Shame and Sorrow;
And as God lives To-Day, that Word
Shall be our Deed To-Morrow.
There's one more Fetter broken!
The spirit that will reach the goal,
And win at last, has spoken.
We Swear—and all the world has heard—
To end this Shame and Sorrow;
And as God lives To-Day, that Word
Shall be our Deed To-Morrow.
Our opening eyes, at length, though late,
Can see the Ancient Blindness;
And we, who crushed each other in hate,
Would try the Clasp of Kindness,—
Would reach the Irish heart with grip
Frank, honest, trustful, thorough;
And show how fearless Statesmanship
Can make us Friends To-Morrow.
Can see the Ancient Blindness;
And we, who crushed each other in hate,
Would try the Clasp of Kindness,—
Would reach the Irish heart with grip
Frank, honest, trustful, thorough;
And show how fearless Statesmanship
Can make us Friends To-Morrow.
426
You had to trust them many a time,
As on them Napier reckoned
To win Meeanee's fight sublime,
With his glorious “Twenty-Second”—
“Magnificent Tipperary!” He
Could lean on them, and borrow
His rest that night! for Victory
Would march with them To-Morrow.
As on them Napier reckoned
To win Meeanee's fight sublime,
With his glorious “Twenty-Second”—
“Magnificent Tipperary!” He
Could lean on them, and borrow
His rest that night! for Victory
Would march with them To-Morrow.
To think of all our Irish Dead
Should thrill you English living!
For us they fought, for us they bled,
To us the triumph giving!
Foremost on many a bloody day
They charged with their wild “Hurroo!”
Through England's Foes they clove a way
For Ireland free To-Morrow.
Should thrill you English living!
For us they fought, for us they bled,
To us the triumph giving!
Foremost on many a bloody day
They charged with their wild “Hurroo!”
Through England's Foes they clove a way
For Ireland free To-Morrow.
For us they conquered as they died,
And with their last endeavour,
Dying for England, still they cried,
“Old Ireland for ever!”
Their dust has given us deeper root
In many a field and furrow;
We think 'tis time they shared the fruit,
And they shall share To-Morrow!
And with their last endeavour,
Dying for England, still they cried,
“Old Ireland for ever!”
Their dust has given us deeper root
In many a field and furrow;
We think 'tis time they shared the fruit,
And they shall share To-Morrow!
427
LIGHT AT LAST.
The sleep of the Dreamer is dying;
The Dream is about to be born:
'Tis the Vision of England untying
The crown of poor Ireland's Thorn!
The Dream is about to be born:
'Tis the Vision of England untying
The crown of poor Ireland's Thorn!
The Night with its phantoms is flying,
And we shall see clearer at morn:
We feel the first airs that come sighing,
New life to awaken; and warn
And we shall see clearer at morn:
We feel the first airs that come sighing,
New life to awaken; and warn
Of a Light in which tears shall be drying,
And hell-fire no longer can burn:
Immortals with mortals are vieing
To lift up the fall'n and forlorn:
And hell-fire no longer can burn:
Immortals with mortals are vieing
To lift up the fall'n and forlorn:
Our old Earth shall cease from her crying,
Nor vainly to Heaven will yearn:
We stand 'twixt the dawning and dying,
That mingle their Verge and their Bourne:
Nor vainly to Heaven will yearn:
We stand 'twixt the dawning and dying,
That mingle their Verge and their Bourne:
The Past with its Shroud-Shadows trying
To hide its face, tortured and torn;
The Future before us Enskying
A glimpse of Millennial Morn:
To hide its face, tortured and torn;
The Future before us Enskying
A glimpse of Millennial Morn:
'Tis the Vision of England untying
The crown of poor Ireland's Thorn;
And the sleep of the Dreamer is dying:
The Dream is about to be born.
The crown of poor Ireland's Thorn;
And the sleep of the Dreamer is dying:
The Dream is about to be born.
| My Lyrical Life | |