 | My Lyrical Life |  |
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.
| My Lyrical Life | |