 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
THE MARCH OUT OF LIMERICK.
I
Comrades true, to dare and do,Oh! they are few who've yet denied us;
We'll not say they could betray,
For many a day they fought beside us;
By hill and glade, in fight and raid,
With vengeful blade we smote the foeman,
And now till we find Ireland free
Our banner-tree shall droop to no man.
II
Alas, for strife! child, parent, wife,More dear than life, we leave behind us;
They weep full sore, but on this shore
Oh! never more in joy they'll find us:—
More blest the brave in bloody grave,
By Boyne's red wave, or Aughrim sleeping,
Than we who hear our children dear,
And fond friends near thus wildly weeping!
III
Sarsfield stands before our bands,For foreign lands his words prepare us;
Ry Thomond Gate the Dutchmen wait,
Their flag elate, but to ensnare us;
237
With steel cuirass and helmet gleaming,
Our brave choice said by onward tread,
And green flag spread above us streaming.
IV
Yon mournful train they weep in vain,Black woe and pain their steps attending;—
And think of all who met their fall
Brave Limerick's wall so long defending;
When we look back on war's grim wrack,
On turret black and breach all gory,
By hearthstone bare and breach we swear,
Revenge to share, come grief or glory!
V
Farewell ye Dead, who nobly bled;Your blood was shed for Ireland's honour,
To change her doom, to chase the gloom
Whose shadows loom so dark upon her;
And ye farewell, whose wild cries swell,
A mournful knell, at home to bind us,
Your hearts full sore on th'Irish shore
For evermore we leave behind us!
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |