More verse and prose By the Cornlaw Rhymer [i.e. Ebenezer Elliott]. In two volumes |
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ERIN, A DIRGE, FOR APRIL, 1847. |
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119
ERIN, A DIRGE, FOR APRIL, 1847.
1
Oh, for snow, strange April snow,Cold and cheap! a shroud of woe
For pale dead Erin's nakedness!
Snow-clad Broom, oh, drooping broom,
Hearse of snow, of plumes a plume,
Weep over Erin coffinless!
2
There are colder things than snow,Sadder things than death and woe,
Proud Rapine's cold hardheartedness!
And that saddest, helpless pain
Which, when struck, strikes not again!
Now wordless, lifeless, coffinless.
3
Insect, that would'st God enthrall!Earning nought, and taking all!
Art thou thy country's nothingness?
Man! whom that vile insect's will
Yet may torture, starve, and kill!
Remember Erin coffinless.
4
How men treat subjected man,When they may do what they can,
120
Well, Bengal, thy famish'd dead
(Victim-myriads o'er thee spread!)
Forespoke of Erin coffinless.
5
Oh, thou snow-clad forest-bough!In thy sun-lit glory now,
Laugh not at death's wide wastefulness;
But lament, while brightly glows
April's noon o'er Winter snows,
A nation dead and coffinless!
6
And—oh! pale unshrouded one,Cover'd by the heav'ns alone!
A white sheet now shall cover thee:
Help is vain, but help is nigh;
And thy friend, the pitying sky
Shall throw a cold sheet over thee.
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