 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
220
I SIT ON THE HOLD OF MOYALLO.
I
I sit on the hold of Moyallo,And look on the Blackwater stream,
As it bounds from the moors of Duhallow,
And shines in the gay summer beam:
And I dream of a nation uprisen
From its dark night of bondage and gloom—
A captive, long pining in prison,
Restored to day's beauty and bloom.
221
II
I look from the light dancing water,O'er steep hill, and wild wood, and mound,
Where many a dark day of slaughter
Hath reddened the green vales around:
Of vengeance I am not a dreamer
For the true blood there spilt long ago,
Tho' I dream that mere words won't redeem her,
Green Erin, from bondage and woe.
III
Long, long we have asked to restore usOur freedom, and still we are slaves:
'Twas thus with our fathers before us,
And bondsmen they went to their graves:
The wish, and the faint heart to slack it,
Have failed, since the green earth began;
The wish, and the brave hand to back it,
'Tis that makes the patriot man!
IV
From the north to the blue south'rn water,Who wish for their freedom again,
Should ask no revenge for each slaughter,
But rise up like brave, honest men;
And when by the word or the sabre
We've righted the wrongs we deplore,
Like men, and not slaves, with our neighbour
We'd prosper in peace evermore.
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |