Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1882-03-05

deur OF his manhood, pronouncing in the
presence of his butchers the funeral Grafton
upon the integrity of his motives. since
that day three-quarters of century mas
passed by and the name OF Emmett and MS
epitaph have been written in the song
and story Of every land where brave hearts
beat in anger at the name Of oppression.
ireland is still the martyred mother OF a
noble race, whose genius, valor, patriotism
and eloquence have lighted up the battle
fields, moved the passions, touched the
hearts and adorned the literature of the
world. And now in our country, where the
flames Of liberty should burn brightest, it Is
we'll for US TO hold up before the gaze OF the
rising generation a dazzling example Of pa
triotism and courage in the person OF one
who drew his great Inspirations from the
founders Of our then infant republic. Wash-
ington was to Emmett a typical hero and the
republic which he founded was to Emmett
the mirror in which he beheld the ideal
image of liberty which he wooed for Ireland
Emmett in its noblest par. Is half our own.
Emmett had lost his heart with Sarah Cur
ran, the daughter of the famous advocate.
In the hope of saying farewell to her before
going upon his long exile, he invaded in dis
guise the stronghold of his enemies, where
he was wounded and captured. Upon his
trial before packed jury, who were under
the dictation of judges commissioned to con-
vict, ne conducted his cause with an
ability and manly independence, which won
the admiration of the world. When
he was asked what he had to say
why sentence Of death should not be
passed upon him, he made his defense, not
to the minions around him who had con-
demned him, but to the generations to come
after him, to whom he consigned his name
and his fame for justice. His funeral ora
ton upon his motives will live as long as the
history of his race. He died as he had lived,
sustained by a high courage, based on con-
viction and conscience. And his great spirit
passed away like
The chord alone that breaks at night
Its tale of ruin tells
Thus freedom now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart Indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.
But the blow that shivered the oak tore
every tendril of the ivy vine that twined
around it, and the sntimely death of Em-
met broke the heart of Curran's daughter.
In the olive groves of Sicily, far from the
land she loved, that land that held his sacred
ashes, she passed away from world that his
death had made for her desert. Tom
Moore, the school-boy friend of Robert EN-
met, has embalmed them both in his death
less song side by side:
She is far from the land where her young hero
sleeps,
And lovers are round her signing;
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps,
For her heart in his grave Is lying.
She sings the wild songs OF her dear native plains,
Every note which he loved awaking;
All little they think, who delight in her strains,
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking.
He had lived for his love- for his country he died,
They were all that to life had entwined him;
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him.
OH make her grave where the sunbeams rest
When they promise glorious morrow
They'll shine DER her sleep like smile from the
west,
Like her own loved island of sorrow