 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
FĀG AN BEALACH.
[_]
This song occurs in a scene of political excitement described in the story of “He would be a Gentleman,” but might equally belong to many other periods of the history of Ireland,—a harassed land, which has been forced to nurse in secret many a deep and dread desire.
Fill the cup, my brothers,
To pledge a toast,
Which, beyond all others,
We prize the most;
As yet 'tis but a notion
We dare not name;
But soon o'er land and ocean
'Twill fly with fame!
Then give the game before us
One view holla,
Hip! hurra! in chorus,
Fāg an Bealach.
To pledge a toast,
Which, beyond all others,
We prize the most;
As yet 'tis but a notion
We dare not name;
But soon o'er land and ocean
'Twill fly with fame!
Then give the game before us
One view holla,
Hip! hurra! in chorus,
Fāg an Bealach.
We our hearts can fling, boys,
O'er this notion,
As the sea bird's wing, boys,
Dips the ocean.
'Tis too deep for words, boys,
The thought we know,
So, like the ocean bird, boys,
We touch and go:
For dangers deep surrounding,
Our hopes might swallow;
So, through the tempest bounding,
Fāg an Bealach.
O'er this notion,
As the sea bird's wing, boys,
Dips the ocean.
54
The thought we know,
So, like the ocean bird, boys,
We touch and go:
For dangers deep surrounding,
Our hopes might swallow;
So, through the tempest bounding,
Fāg an Bealach.
This thought with glory rife, boys,
Did brooding dwell,
'Till time did give it life, boys,
To break the shell;
'Tis in our hearts yet lying,
An unfledged thing,
But soon, an eaglet flying,
'Twill take the wing!
For 'tis no timeling frail, boys,—
No summer swallow,—
'Twill live through winter's gale, boys,
Fāg an Bealach.
Did brooding dwell,
'Till time did give it life, boys,
To break the shell;
'Tis in our hearts yet lying,
An unfledged thing,
But soon, an eaglet flying,
'Twill take the wing!
For 'tis no timeling frail, boys,—
No summer swallow,—
'Twill live through winter's gale, boys,
Fāg an Bealach.
Lawyers may indite us
By crooked laws,
Soldiers strive to fright us
From country's cause;
But we will sustain it
Living—dying—
Point of law, or bay'net
Still defying!
Let their parchment rattle—
Drums are hollow:
So is lawyer's prattle—
Fāg an Bealach.
By crooked laws,
Soldiers strive to fright us
From country's cause;
But we will sustain it
Living—dying—
Point of law, or bay'net
Still defying!
Let their parchment rattle—
Drums are hollow:
So is lawyer's prattle—
Fāg an Bealach.
55
Better early graves, boys—
Dark locks gory,
Than bow the head as slaves, boys,
When they're hoary.
Fight it out we must, boys,
Hit or miss it,
Better bite the dust, boys,
Than to kiss it!
For dust to dust at last, boys,
Death will swallow—
Hark! the trumpet's blast, boys,
Fāg an Bealach.
Dark locks gory,
Than bow the head as slaves, boys,
When they're hoary.
Fight it out we must, boys,
Hit or miss it,
Better bite the dust, boys,
Than to kiss it!
For dust to dust at last, boys,
Death will swallow—
Hark! the trumpet's blast, boys,
Fāg an Bealach.
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |