The Nashville daily union. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1862-1866, 1864-05-29

The eTImes,g PredIctiOn-AH KxlIe's
Hope.
nY DARBY o'QrILL.


BY nARBY oorILL
The exodus from the Old land, with
the predictions Of the English and
some of the Irish press on the future
of that now unhappy country. calls to
mind the prophecy of the "1.ondCn
Times a few years ago. In fifty
years Ireland will be Protestant 10 a
man. ur children viii see the day
when the Celt viii be as obsolete IN
Ireland as the Phosnicians in Corn
wall Not wishing to see it in this
light, / brought my horoscope APP
sparatus to bear, took patriotic view,
aud send you the picture
When half q century shall roll
lis shadows to the past,
And round the world, from pole to pole,
The Irish race is cast
Then, then in Erin Of the streams
No rebel Celt viii be,
No cross shall kiss the morning beans,
No Papist bend the knee;
No POpish priest in foreign tongue
Shall pray with book and beli
But piles deeayed where Mass was sung
Their ruined tale shall tell
No Especial agents" VIII be then
With soup and bible driven,
To feed and teach deluded men
The new fonad road to Heaven -
30, no, then the sister sod
VIII Weld to Saxon hands
Men who viii bow to King or God,
As British law commands.
Thus looking forward fifty years,
With al their old Satanic hate,
And smiling Ger nation 5 tears,
The Saxon ehurls predict our fate.
How pleased they view each swelling sail
That watts the Celt from Erin's shore
How gladly chronicle the tale,
They 60, and viii return no more.
IT'S true that England's iron heel
Is placed upon our eOuntry's jaws,
It's true the tyrant's bristling steel
Asserts her right, defends her laws;
IT'S trne her cursed right is wrong,
IT'S true her statutes bind is STILL
It's true that strangers govern long
nation gainst peoples will
IT'S true her laws protect the rich,
For them the game on mount and moor
To death or exile, needless which,
Too true, alasI they grind the poor.
They drive to exile or the grave,
The starved thousands are at rest,
But those who braTed old oceans wave
Still live with vengeance in each breast
Vengeance engendered at their birth,
Taught in the fullaby's plaintive lays,
Sworn to on the blood stained hearth,
The dear old hearth of other days.;
Sworn to on the sea-beat shore,
At the last grasp of kindred hands,
Heard mid the warning waters roar,
Cherished and nursed in alien lands.
Yes, ves-in every exile's breast
Who ever felt your CALLING chains,
The stamp of rebel is impressed,
Vengeance indellible remains.
As fresh as ere we stemEl'd the waves
Hear it, you Downing street. avengers
Fear it, you braggadocia knayes-
The banished ones will be the avengers.
We bide our time to strike for thee,
For God and thee, old land go bragh
Hope on-thy hills ere long shall see,
Prepared to die or set thee free,
Thy sons the sword Of vengeance draw.
Again thoult hear the warriors strain
From valley, glen and mountain swell
A gain thoult see, as ddst the Dane
From Clontsrfs memorable plain,
Thy tyrants driven to home or hell.
To he'll or home each Saxon knaye,
The Celt shall own his native isle
Yes, yes, old land, above my grave
Thy flag in triumph yet shall wave,
The sun of Freedom proudly smile
Be this my lot, kind Heaven decree,
For this I'll breathe my latest sigh
Nv native land o let me see
Her hills, her dales, her people free,
Then, when Thou widest, in peace l die.