Through scenes of tumult and of strife Endured in every clime. But then a shadow from on high Hung o'er the heaps of slain. And through the darkness of the cloud, The chief's prophetic glance Beheld, with winding-sheet and shroud.
Death is nigh.
Forbid the future to restore A Stuart's despot gloom, Or that, by freemen dreaded more. From either curse let Erin freed.