Thomas Davis, Thomas Davis, selections from his prose and poetry
“ They dread their very domestics, they abhor the People, rage at the country, summon each other, and all the aid that authority can give to protect and to punish; they bar their doors before sunset, their hearths are surrounded with guns and pistols—at the least rustle every heart beats and women shriek, and men with clenched teeth and embittered hearts make ready for that lone and deadly conflict—that battle without object, without honour, without hope, without quarter. Then they cover the country with patrols—they raise up a cloud of hovering spies—no peasant, no farmer feels safe. ”
