 | The Poems of Thomas Davis |  |
THE DEATH OF SARSFIELD.
A CHAUNT OF THE BRIGADE.
I
Sarsfield has sailed from Limerick Town,He held it long for country and crown;
And ere he yielded, the Saxon swore
To spoil our homes and our shrines no more.
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II
Sarsfield and all his chivalryAre fighting for France in the low countrie—
At his fiery charge the Saxons reel,
They learned at Limerick to dread the steel.
III
Sarsfield is dying on Landen's plain;His corslet hath met the ball in vain—
As his life-blood gushes into his hand,
He says, “Oh! that this was for father-land!”
IV
Sarsfield is dead, yet no tears shed we—For he died in the arms of Victory,
And his dying words shall edge the brand,
When we chase the foe from our native land!
| The Poems of Thomas Davis | |