Ireland for the Irish Rhymes and Reasons Against Landlordism with a Preface on Fenianism and Republicanism. By W. J. Linton, Formerly of the Irish "Nation" |
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THE SHIRLEYS |
 | Ireland for the Irish |  |
THE SHIRLEYS
'Twas a splendid morn for the hunt indeed,
And the Devil look'd grimly glad,
As he whistled his hounds of the Shirley breed—
The savagest pack he had.
And I saw him lead them to cover there:
How the deep-mouth'd bloodhounds grinn'd
As a peasant fled from his wretched lair
And they drove him against the wind.
And the Devil look'd grimly glad,
As he whistled his hounds of the Shirley breed—
The savagest pack he had.
And I saw him lead them to cover there:
How the deep-mouth'd bloodhounds grinn'd
As a peasant fled from his wretched lair
And they drove him against the wind.
Ho, Rapine! Rackrent! follow him close;
See, Famine has pull'd him down:
Though the sport be brief, yet heaven knows
That fault is not our own.
Another! another! and dam and young!—
And the hell-dogs bark amain;
O, the bursting heart and the fever'd tongue
And the failing, desperate strain!
See, Famine has pull'd him down:
Though the sport be brief, yet heaven knows
That fault is not our own.
Another! another! and dam and young!—
And the hell-dogs bark amain;
O, the bursting heart and the fever'd tongue
And the failing, desperate strain!
Men and women and babes they slew,
Till the very Fiend grew sick;
But the savager hounds—no rest they knew
While blood remain'd to lick.—
My ears yet ring with their horrid yell,
My heart beats fast with fear:—
Would God it were only a dream of Hell!
But the Shirleys hunt us here.
Till the very Fiend grew sick;
But the savager hounds—no rest they knew
While blood remain'd to lick.—
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My heart beats fast with fear:—
Would God it were only a dream of Hell!
But the Shirleys hunt us here.
| Ireland for the Irish | |