The Irish standard., 1892-08-27
Midnight is red with the plunderer's fire.
On with O'Donnell then, fight the old fgh

sake,
And those who do love thee thy fetters will
break.
The links that have worn thy flesh to the bone
Are spent with thy struggles, their strength
they disown.
Weep not though thy fields were often left rec
Where martyrs have died and martyrs have
bled.
Weep not though Thy priests at the affairs were
slain
And thy churches despoiled for all impious
gain;
For j ustice is coming with fire in his hand
And iery's his breath and tierys his brand,
Yes, this is the justice we long wished to see
And cry with wild pleasure old Erin thou ri
free.
And who having the Celtic blood in
his veins is not fred by the song of the
Manchester Martyrs?
High upon the gallows tree,
Swung the noble-hearted three,
BY the yengeful tyrant stricken in their bloom
But they met him, face to face,
With the courage Of their race,
And they went with souls undat1nted to their
doom.
''God save Ireland" said the heroes,
God save Ireland said they all;
''Whether on the scaffold high,
Or on the battlefield we die.
Oh,what N after, when for Erin dear we fall!''
Never till the latest dsy,
Shall the.memory pass away
OF the gallant lives thus given for our land;
But on the cause must go,
Amidst JOY, or veal, or woe,
Till we've made our Isle nation free and
grand.
God save Ireland, say we proudly,
s'God save Ireland" say we all;
''Whether on the scaffold high
Or the battlefield we die,
Oh, h,what matter, when for Erin dear e iall!"
No! never till the latest day. No! never
while an Irish heart can feel, never while
an Irish hand can deal blow, never
while the sons of Erin are bold and her
daughters fair, never while her homes
are hospitable and the shamrock green
shall the Irish people tamely submit to
any foreign power or ever acknowledge
that the British possess that land which
is theirs by justice and right. The
cause shall go on forever, amid JOY and
veal and woe, until poetry and song shall
have their part in the great victory that
shall be gained.
Do not tell me of a power that pene-
trates the earth to it's depths, that p.oughs
the seas, that controls the lightning.
But do tell me tf power that moves,
and controls the human heart. and fires
the warrior to deeds of valor. Listen to
the lines:
We have talked Of peace and watched in vain,
Till our homes were dull and cold,
We have waited till our fields w. re bare,
And tenant1eSs the fold.
We have hoped till strength forsook the arm.
Aud the soul forgot its faith.
And our swords have pierced our brethren s
heart,
Or rusted in the sheath
But away with feuds and servile fears,
At that ighty war cry's peal
Arise while We yet have strength,
And strike for freedom with O'Neil.
And who is the man who claims to be
a man and is not melted and moved to
deeds of valor at the story Of the Croppy
Boy? The trembling youth kneels and
in faltering accents makes his confession
I cursed three times since Easter day, I
passed the church yard one day in haste,
and forgot to pray for my mothers rest,
I owe no haze to living thing, but [ love
my country above my king.
At the seige Of Ross did my Father fall
And at Limerick City my brothers all,
So bless me Father and let me go
To die if God has ordained it So
Do tell me of power that melts the
human heart and comforts the child OF
sorrow. Do tell me of power that
makes us hold converse with long de-
parted and forgotten friends, that puts
life into the heart and light into the eyes,
that brings back loving faces and voices
around the winters fire in the stilly night,
Oft in the stiIly night ere slumbers chain has
Fond memory brings the light OF other days
The smiles, the tears OF boyhood years,
The words OF love then spoken,
The eyes that shOne now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken.
The power Of poetry and song sus-
tanned Ireland in the past in her wars
against the Danes and the English. And
the same power is felt to-day all over the
earth wherever true Irishman is to
be found. I shall now trespass no longer
on your time but bid the land Of song
goodbye il the words OF the poet:
Adieu!. the snowy sail swells her bosom to the
gale Bsss l s.
And our bark from 1nnisfan bounds away
While we gaze upon thy shore and the land
we'll see nomOre, we pray. s3stEs
Mavorneen, be thou long in peace the queen Of
song. 5t3 sS rs is5f 81
In battle proud and strong as thesea;
Be saints Thy offspring still, true heroes guard
ss each hill
i "a thy harp 81 every rill sound free.