 | Poems |  |
16
JUSTICE FOR IRELAND!
Justice for Ireland! brothers all,
Of every creed and station!
Both great and small, a private call
Hath each to save the nation.
The impulse of my patriot heart
Is to advise you truly
(Advisers have an easy part),
Be yours to act it duly.
Of every creed and station!
Both great and small, a private call
Hath each to save the nation.
The impulse of my patriot heart
Is to advise you truly
(Advisers have an easy part),
Be yours to act it duly.
Justice for Ireland! O ye bards
By whom her woes are bruited;
Her laurel wreath the Muse awards
To strains more deeply rooted.
For tears and rage are transient things,
And whilst on these ye 're battened,
The sky looks love, the gay bird sings,
The mountain soars unflattened.
By whom her woes are bruited;
Her laurel wreath the Muse awards
To strains more deeply rooted.
For tears and rage are transient things,
And whilst on these ye 're battened,
The sky looks love, the gay bird sings,
The mountain soars unflattened.
17
Justice for Ireland! if ye can,
O host of writers broguish;
Nor paint each fellow-countryman
As blundering or roguish.
Think less of oddities and rags,
And more of human-nature;
And 'stead of party-words and flags,
March under something greater.
O host of writers broguish;
Nor paint each fellow-countryman
As blundering or roguish.
Think less of oddities and rags,
And more of human-nature;
And 'stead of party-words and flags,
March under something greater.
Justice for Ireland! O ye priests,
Both Protestant and Roman;
Let each observe his fasts and feasts,
But try to anger no man.
Religion's rind is little worth,
The milk is in the kernel;
All love is of celestial birth,
All hatred, of infernal.
Both Protestant and Roman;
Let each observe his fasts and feasts,
But try to anger no man.
Religion's rind is little worth,
The milk is in the kernel;
All love is of celestial birth,
All hatred, of infernal.
Justice for Ireland! echoing band
Of empty agitators;
Who scorn each noiseless busy hand,
And canonise the praters.
Well may shrewd foes in secret scoff,
Nor think your mouths of corking;
While so much steam is blowing off,
There 's little left for working.
Of empty agitators;
Who scorn each noiseless busy hand,
And canonise the praters.
Well may shrewd foes in secret scoff,
Nor think your mouths of corking;
18
There 's little left for working.
Justice for Ireland! Members dear,
Be honest not so rarely;
And blush, ye Landlords, praise to hear,
For treating tenants fairly.
Justice for Ireland! poorer man,
Your evil passions bridle;
And to assist you, try the plan
Of ne'er by choice being idle.
Be honest not so rarely;
And blush, ye Landlords, praise to hear,
For treating tenants fairly.
Justice for Ireland! poorer man,
Your evil passions bridle;
And to assist you, try the plan
Of ne'er by choice being idle.
Justice for Ireland! brothers all,
Of every creed and station;
And other counsel if ye call,
For saving of the nation—
This maxim in the meantime prize,
Nor think its plainness humbling,
Let everyone beware of lies,
And laziness, and grumbling.
Of every creed and station;
And other counsel if ye call,
For saving of the nation—
This maxim in the meantime prize,
Nor think its plainness humbling,
Let everyone beware of lies,
And laziness, and grumbling.
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