The New York herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1840-1920, 1875-08-06

With the best blood OF all the land.
And now, at last the fight seemed DER,
The sound OF battle peaed no more;
Affect the PROSTATE people lay,
Nor dared TO hope better CAV;
An Icy chill fatal nost,
Left them with ali but honor lost
Left them with only trust IN God,
Poor parahs on their native sod.
The lands were gone their fathers owned~
Their faith was banned, their prophets stoned;
Their temples, browning every height,
Now echoed with an alien rite,
Or lay o desecrated pile,
With shattered cross and ruined aisle.
Letters denied forbade to pray
And white winged commerce scared away:
An, what can rouse the dormant life
That still survives the stormier strifeY
What potent charm can once again
Relift the cross rebuild the fane9
What signal mercy from on highR
Hush bark hear an infants cry,
The answer OF newborn child,
From lveragh's far mountain wild
Yes, tits the cry OF child feeble and faint In the
night,
But soon to thunder in tones that Will rouse
both tyrants and slaves.
Yes, tits the SOD OF stream Just awake In its
SouASO Oh bHO HCRub,
But soon to spread as a sea- and rush with the
roaring OF waves.
Yes, tits the cry of child, affection hastens to
still,
But what shall silence 'ere long the victor voice
OF the MANI
Easy it is for branch to bar the flow of the ill,
But all the forest would fail where raging the
torrent once ran.
And soon the torrent will rum and the pent-up
waters o'ernow,
For the child has risen to man, and shout
replaces the cry;
And a voice rings out through the world, so
winged with ErIn's woe,
That charmed are the nations to listen, ana the
Destn1es to reply.
Boyhood had passed away from the child. predes-
tined by fate
OF her ills,
Aud the terrible record of wrong and the annals
OF hell and hate,
Had gathered into his breast like lake In the
heart of the mills.
Brooding over the past he found himself but q
slave, $
With manacles forged on his mind and letters
on every limb
The land that was life to others to him was only
grave,
And however the race he ran no victor wreath
was for him.
The fame OF learning was closed, shut out was the
light OF day,
No ray from the sun OF science no brightness
from Greece or Rome,
And those who hunxered for knowledge, like him,
had to ny away,
Where bountiiul France threw wide the gates
that were shut at home
And there he happily learned lore far better
than books,
lesson he taught forever, and thundereo over
the land,
That Liberty's self is terror, how lovely may be
her looks,
II religion is not in her heart, and reverence
guide not her hand.
The steps OF honor were barred It was not for him
to climb
No glorious goal in the future, no prize for the
labor OF life,
And the fate of him and his people seemed fixed
for all coming time,
To hew the wood OF the helot and draw the
waters OF strife.
But the glorious youth returning
Back from France the fair and free,
Rage within his bosom burning,
Such servile sight to see,
Vowed to heaven 1t should not be.
mol" the youthful champion cried,
"Mother Ireland, widowed bride,
II thy freedom can be won
By the service of q son,
Then, behold that son in me.
will give thee every hour,
Every day shall be thy dover,
In the splendor OF the light
In the watches OF The night
In the shine and in the shower,
shall work but for thy rignt.u
V