Waterbury Democrat., 1901-01-25

Naples, to advance with detachment to . particular post. Having given his orders he whispered to Carew: ''Sir, know you to be gallant man. I have, therefore, put you upon this duty. \ tell you in confidence 1t is | certain death for you all. place you | there to make the enemy spring q | mine below you" Carew made bow l to the general and led on his men, in l silence, to the dreadful post. He there l stood with an undaunted countenance, i and, having called to one of his sol diers for q draught of wine, said: '"Here, drink to all those who brave ] ly fall in battle." This is what men l will do for honor. The Irish soldier abroad did a smashing business in the trade of war for more than a century. In France the brigade disappeared at the revolution, but in lS14, on the ab- dication of Napoleon, and the restor- alton of Louis XVIII, the remnants of that organization sought to re-enter the service of the Bourbon monarchy. I The Duke of Fitzjames, who present. ed them to Louis, said to that prince: Sire 1 have the honor of presenting l to your majesty the survivors of the l old Irish brigade. These gentlemen i only ask for sword and the privilege of dying at the foot of the throne But i the privilege was not accorded. The Bourbon king was too heavily lndepf- l ed to England for the restoration or his throne to do anything opposed TO 1 the wishes of the British government, and the British government, writes the historian of the Franco-lr1Sh Dfl- gade, particularly pressed upon nm Louis XVIII.) through Lord Castle reagh, that there should be no restor- alton of an Irish brigade in France Thousands and thousands of 1rishmen fought for every king in Europe. But not enc of those kings of Europe ever did anything for Ireland. Not one! ! France, indeed. in '9S, lent her sword i to the old land. But that was when l France was a republic, though the Irish, it must be said, who poured out | their blood freely for the monarchy, i never shed q tear for the republic. | 1rishmen have filled the world with the renown of their arms. But of what avail? Our motherland ts to- day in China. We have won victories 1 for other nations, why can't we Win q victory for Ireland? To-day Erin stands in the temple of fame, sur rounded by banners of all nations, blazing with victories won by her 1 sons. and, turning from this spectacle of universal glory. She looks towards ', Us in sadness and says to each one i of us:
 God knows I'm proud alannah-aye,
 my heart is wild with joy, ! With the storied Irish valor that won
 the famous Fontenoy. 1 With each onset, rush, and rally, ev'ry charge the wild geese made; l From the Pc unto the Duoro-from l Dunkirk to Belgrade:
 But yet. God knows, acushla I'd give
 all that glory gave.
 | Or honor, rank or title, won abroad
 with Irish glaive.
 1 For one drop of peasants hearts blood
 that reddened Slaney's wave. | Though their sepulchre is glorys 1 shrine, Gods truth, I'm prouder Of all humble frieze-coat cropy's grave
 on sloping Oulart hill ! Aye, O'Brien's or Sarsdeld's baton
 would l and gladly part
 For but the rust on Scian or pike
 which split Saxon heart; I may be wrong avourneen, but I'd
 rather any day
 See one red-coat piked in Ireland than
 millions far away!
 ''True, the wild geese" led the van
 guard, when charging on amain, | For the lordly frankish, chivalry, the
 cavaliers of Spain.
 As the conquered Butcher Cumber-
 land, the routed Prince Eugene, | Ao hE 1 in ha E flashed the simmer of their | spears,
 When they led meath Austria's eagle
 her Iron Cuirassiers,
 Or against the hardy Russian, bold
 Circassia's mountalneers,
 Flooding foreign lands with glory, but 1 their moth'rland with tears. l Aye they were the best ones and
 bravest, through all the nations known,
 In the fight for rival monarchies and
 foreign land and throne;
 But the noblest blows they ever struck were in and for their own! And so said lreland's truest, when
 their fame winged every breeze, Yet we'd rather fight and fall at home, cried Irelands Rapparees, What good for Erin did they, once they looked their last upon her Her peerless soldier galaxy from Nial to O'Connor?
 Mavrone! Mavrone! the sorry good of
 storied fame and honor, Save the few who scorned the laur- els they might win from other foe, And returned mad for vengeance, like
 the lordly Owen Roe);
 God. What good, was this to Erin,
 their never ending fame?
 That the diamond style of history inl-
 mortalized each name,
 Or the willy host of despot dubbed them braves of the brave?
 Did the thunder of their volley or the
 lightning of their glaive
 Rend or break a chain that bound her,