Various

“ No; rather sing of death and of the grave,
⁠Then will thy lay claim more of sympathy;
These are the themes that best befit the slave,
⁠For death at least will make the bondsman free.
III.
Then sing not now the melting lay of love,
⁠Its notes should not be uttered by a slave;
But if thou wouldst thy heart's devotion prove,
⁠Recover first the freedom Heaven gave;
Then when that first, best gift thou shalt regain,
⁠A willing ear I'll lend thy minstrelsy;
But sing not to me love's light, joyous strain
⁠Till thou canst say—"My native land is free." ”

“ Of the tender ones the clasp—
Of the gallant ones the grasp—
⁠He thinks until his tears fall warm:
And full seems his wide hall,
With friends from wall to wall,
⁠Where their welcome shakes the banners, like a storm, like a storm,
⁠Where their welcome shakes the banners, like a storm.
IV.
Then he sees another scene—
Norman churls on the green—
⁠"O'Sullivan aboo!" is the cry;
For filled is his ship's hold
With arms and Spanish gold,
⁠And he sees the snake-twin'd spear wave on high, wave on high,
⁠And he sees the snake-twin'd spear wave on high. ”

“ Shall we crouch on the plains where your sharp sabres clashing,
⁠Lit the spring-tide of battle's magnificent flow;
As in midnight's deep gloom, o'er the stormy wave flashing,
⁠The balefires of ruin exultingly glow?
XII.
Oh! never, by heaven! the nation hath spoken,
⁠"The foul foreign idol shall bleed on our plains,
If bolts forged in hell by man's might can be broken,
⁠If not we can perish—'The grave has no chains.'" ”

“ Burst bright at your spell-word, sweet songs of The Nation!
III.
The minstrels who waken these wild notes of freedom,
Have hands for green Erin—if Erin should need 'em;
And hearts for the wrong'd one, wherever he ranges,
From Zembla to Timor—from Shannon to Ganges—
⁠And hate for his foeman,
⁠All hatred above—
⁠And love for dear woman,
⁠Seraphical love—
But chiefest the fair ones whose eyes' animation
Is the spell-word that prompts the sweet songs of The Nation! ”

“ TO ———
"The love we have lost is never renewed. On that dread vacuum of the breast, the temple and the garden rise no more—that feeling, be it hatred, be it scorn, be it indifference, which replaces love, endures to the last."—Bulwer.
I.
I lov'd thee—yes, I lov'd thee—oh! how deeply and how well,
The heart that loves alone can feel—what words can ever tell,
Too long I dream'd—I vainly dream'd—affection could reside,
Within that breast of ice and steel—of cold and cutting pride. ”

“ Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky,
Why did you leave us, Owen? Why, why did you die?
VIII.
Soft as woman's was your voice, O'Neill! bright was your eye,
Oh! why did you leave us, Owen? why did you die?
Your troubles are all over, you're at rest with God on high;
But we're slaves, and we're orphans, Owen!—why did you die? ”

“ STEADY.
"Courage—your most necessary virtue—consists not in blind resistance, but in knowing when to forbear."—The Nation, June 17.
Steady! Host of Freeedom, steady!
⁠Ponder, gather, watch, mature;
Tranquil be, though ever ready—
⁠Prompt to act—and to endure.
Aimless, rage you not, insanely,
⁠Like a maniac with his chain,
Struggling madly, therefore vainly,
⁠And lapsing back to bonds again.
But, observe, the clouds o'er Keeper
⁠Long collect their awful ire—
Long they swell more dark and deeper;
⁠When they burst, all heaven's on fire. ”

“ Our standard flies from fifty towers, it leads ten thousand men,
Down have we pluck'd the pirate Red never to rise again;
The Green alone shall stream above our native field and flood—
The spotless Green, save where its folds are gemmed with Saxon blood.
VI.
Pity! [1] no, no, you dare not Priest—not you our Father dare,
Preach to us now that Godless creed—the murderer's blood to spare;
To spare his blood, while tombless still our slaughtered kin implore,
"Graves and revenge" from Gobbin Cliffs and Carrick's bloody shore! ”

“ And far through the length and the breadth of the land
⁠The watchword is—Freedom and Erin aboo!
V.
Accursed be your cause, if there linger within it
⁠One dark stain of falsehood, one relic of guile;
If Freedom we love not, and seek not to win it,
⁠For All without favour that dwell in our isle.
Invoking that God we in common adore,
⁠To do unto us as to others we do;
We swear that no Saxon shall fetter us more,
⁠Our watchword still—Freedom and Erin aboo! ”

“ The hour thou wilt aid thine own fetters to sever,
⁠Not earth's banded tyrants our thrall can prolong.
VI.
Withdraw, then, thy presence from pleasure's gay bowers,
⁠And smile but on him who braves danger and toil.
Thus beauty and virtue, asserting their powers,
⁠Shall more than atone for the false Devorghoil.
VII.
Irresistible loveliness! wouldst thou but cherish
⁠The patriot virtues, at once we are free;
But desert thou, or shrink, and as surely we perish—
⁠For man takes the tone of his spirit from thee. ”

“ Sarsfield and all his chivalry
Are fighting for France in the Low Country—
At his fiery charge the Saxons reel;
They learnt at Limerick to dread the steel.
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 fatherland!"
Sarsfield is dead, yet no tears shed we—
He died in the arms of victory,
And his dying words shall edge the brand,
When we chase the foe from our native land. ”

“ On the National Banner, in letters of glory,
⁠Inscribe them to serve as the watchwords for men,
Who, roused from despair by their patriot story,
⁠Shall dare all the deeds of these heroes again.
In the requiem chaunt for the souls of the dead,
⁠When the prayers of the millions in silence are given,
Oh, ask of their God, for each spirit thus fled,
⁠Peace and joy without end 'midst the blessed in heaven. ”

“ We'll offer it the tribute of our gore.
⁠Yes! on that altar high,
⁠'Spite of tyrants we can die,
And our spirits to the saints above may soar, soar, soar;
And our spirits to the saints above may soar.
III.
⁠Liberty is gone,
⁠Now 'tis glory leads us on,
And spangles gloomy slavery's night;
⁠If freedom's shattered bark
⁠Have not foundered i' the dark
Her wreck must see this beacon bright, bright, bright;
Her wreck will see this beacon bright. ”

“ Too long we've wept; though blood and tears
⁠May rust, they break not slavery's chain,
And forty weary woe-worn years
⁠We've wept (as we have bled) in vain.
Then strike as though thy fingers hold
⁠Our heart-strings 'neath thy touch of fire ”

“ Saving the student's wealth—"Apollo's fees"—
Long rows of goodly volumes, to appease
⁠My early love and quenchless thirst of lore.
No Want to urge me on the path of Gain—
⁠No Hope to lure me in Ambition's track;
Struggles and strife, and all their savage train,
⁠Still from my tranquil dwelling driven back;
⁠My only triumphs—if such toys I lack—
Some subtle nut of science burst in twain,
⁠Or knot unravell'd. Thus be't mine to live,
⁠And feel life pass like a long summer eve. ”

“ Then, oh! when green Erin her trust and her might,
Shall summon to battle for God and our right—
For the home of our hearts, or the freedom of man,
May one gallant phalanx still march in the van—
⁠The Men of the North. ”

“ Shake off the dream-world's thraldom and awake
⁠To see thy land become regenerate,
⁠And aid, if aid thou may'st, a work so great
The mist of prejudice, as from a lake,
Is rising from men's minds, and tyrants quake
⁠Reading the signs aright that speak our coming fate.
Then up! for here the patriot heart may glow
With ecstacy that tame life cannot know. ”

“ And shall it last, this Union,
⁠To grind and waste us so?
O'er hill and lea, from sea to sea,
⁠All Ireland thunders, No!
Eight million necks are stiff to bow—
⁠We know our might as men—
We conquered once before, and now
⁠We'll conquer once again ”

“ Youthful men and elders hoary,
⁠List ye to the harper's song!
My clarseach weeps my true-love's story
⁠In my true-love's native tongue;
She's bound and bleeding 'neath th' oppressor—
⁠Few her friends and fierce her foe ”

“ Eight millions of a noble race—high-minded, pure, and good—
Kept subject to a petty gang—a miserable brood!
Strong but in England's constant hate, and help to keep us down,
And blast the smiles of Nature fair, with man's unholy frown.
How is it like my thought, again?—How is it like my thought?
Because your thought is Ireland's self—and even thus her lot! ”

“ Let Fashion no more in pursuit of vain pleasure,
⁠To far-distant lands in her train draw you o'er;
In your own native isle is the goodliest treasure:
⁠Awake, then, awake, and lie dreaming no more!
When once love and pride of your country ye cherish,
The seeds of disunion and discord shall perish,
And Erin, dear Erin, in loveliness flourish. ”

“ No! thirsting to madness, red vengeance will pass,
Like the cloud's subtle fire, thro' a fortress of brass,
Let cannon blaze round him, or white billows flow,
He will reach, thro' them all, the heart's blood of his foe. ”

“ Our ancient harp shall blend its tone
⁠With Erin's ancient tongue,
To sing how Saxon guile alone
⁠Strong fetters o'er us flung;
Shall rouse to wrath our warrior-band
⁠To shout the battle cry,
To sweep oppression from the land,
⁠And burst its bonds—or die! ”

“ YOUNG IRELAND.
I.
When comes the day, all hearts to weigh,
⁠If staunch they be or vile,
Shall we forget the sacred debt
⁠We owe our mother isle?
My native heath is green beneath,
⁠My native waters blue ”

“ Shall bruise your heart, and sere your brain—
Lost Isle! with matchless beauty crown'd
But wanting strength to break your chain;
If Britannia, Britannia cross the waves,
Irish ever shall be slaves. ”

“ We've fish in our streamlets, and kine in our glens,
We've shade in our wild woods, and strength in our fens,
We've men on our mountains, and hearts in our heath,
To welcome the foe to the banquet of death. ”

“ And the dark hill shall bristle with sabre and spear,
While one tyrant remains to forge manacles here.
IV.
The riderless war-steed careers o'er the plain
With a shaft in his flank and a blood dripping mane,
His gallant breast labours, and glare his wild eyes;
He plunges in torture—falls—shivers—and dies.
V.
Let the trumpets ring triumph! the tyrant is slain,
He reels o'er his charger deep pierced through the brain ”

“ But we scorn all their threats, boys, whatever they may mean;
For we trust in God above us, and we dearly love the green.
⁠So, we'll up for the green, and we'll up for the green!
⁠Oh, to die is far better than be curst as we have been ”

“ Be it ours to stand forth and contend in the van,
Of truth's legions for freedom, that birthright of man,
Shaking off the dull cobwebs that else might encumber
Our weapon—the pen—in The Nation's First Number.
III.
We announce a New Era—be this our first news—
When the serf-grinding Landlords shall shake in their shoes;
While the ark of a bloodless yet migthy Reform
Shall emerge from the flood of the Popular Storm!
Well we know how the lickspittle panders to Power,
Feel and fear the approach of that death-dealing hour ”

“ A spirit is moving in light o'er the waters,
⁠And he shouts through the stormy applause of the waves,
"How long, beloved land, shall thy glorious daughters
⁠Be consorts or mothers of spiritless slaves?" ”

“ And marshall'd tempests roar like the sea.
⁠Her splendour fills the air,
⁠And the nations, in its glare,
⁠By their broken altars swear
⁠To be free!
VI.
Then our iron fetters fall
⁠Like poison weeds around,
And lie inky as a pall
⁠On the stain'd and loathing ground;
And the carrion-birds of heaven o'er them sail. ”

“ God of Right! preserve us
⁠Just—as we are strong;
Let no passion swerve us
⁠To one act of wrong—
Let no thought, unholy,
⁠Come our cause to blight—
Thus we pray thee, lowly—
⁠Hear us, God of Right! ”

“ Up with the wine from boss to brim,
⁠And be his voice the loudest,
Who rears, at risk of life or limb,
⁠Our country's flag the proudest.
"The leader of the people"—grand,
⁠Yet simple wisdom guide him! ”