Waterbury Democrat., 1902-10-07
IN MEM0RIAM.

ssrhey grew in beauty side by side,
 ssThey filled our home with glee; s0Their graves are severed far and wide
 ssBy mount and stream and sea" With the single exception of Charles Gayan Duffy, the contemporary eompatriots of the venerable Wal lace have long since rendered an account of their stew l ardship. And the telegraph op- orator at the Antipodes may at any moment flash to us the intelligence that the leader of the Young Ireland CTS is no more. That magnlncent obelisk in the Glasnevin cemetery pointing toward the sky informs the passing stranger that the soul or tne great Iberator has fed aDove tne stars. The eternal refrain of the ma iestic Missouri chants natures grand est requiem for the fearless soldier of Fredricksburg Thomas Francis Meagher The giant oaks of the Ga Inadian forest stand as sentinels to I guard the grave which contains the ashes of the historian and the poet Thomas Darcy McGee. In the bosom of his native soiT surrounded by the Irish hills the bones of that unswerv- I ing patriot, John Mitchell, are slowly mingling with the dust of his fathers. And from one of the most prosperous cities in the New England valley the | spiritual essence of our unique citizen winged it's flight heavenward, to re ioice forever with the friends of his early days.
 WALLACE. He has fled from our gaze, from the strife and the throng, The patriot of freedom-the lover of
 song;
 But the end was so peaceful, we
 counted each breath As he calmly awaited the angel of
 death.
 The priest of that faith which was al.
 ways his pride,
 Tn that last mortal conflict knelt l there by his side, And in tones grandly solemn, said: I Father, we pray That you list to the voice of your ser- l want to-day. . He has borne his cross To! the signs l on his brow, And the crucifix sways in his hands I even now. Iris human to err and divine to for
 give, Let the soul of Thy servant forever
 more live
 Tn Thy realms of light-bove the
 dwellings of men, We implore Thy great mercy, dear I Saviour, amen.''
 As he felt of that heart which forever
 stood still,
 The spirit of Wallace scared OCT
 Tinakill,
 And with Peri-like swiftness swooped
 down on the sod
 And plucked Patrick's shamrock to
 take to his God.
 His spirit gaze swept over mountain
 and vale
 And the daisied- d-clad slopes of his
 own Innisfail.
 His love for the old land was second I to none, Do1
 Hence we laurel the tomb of her pa I triot son,
 And that wreath shall be green when I your things of to-day, l With your wealth and your prestige
 shall have crumbled away; Nor sculptor nor poet shall pause at
 the spot ] Where your handful of gold and your
 selves are forgot
 What an insult it is to that island so
 fair l To meet people who wish they were
 born elsewhere: 7 With the brogue on their tongue they
 will try to disoWn.
 The land of young Emmett. O,Neil] Il and Wolfe Tone.
 Dressed with bangle and tinsel and
 gaudy display
 They Will revel in mirth at an Irish
 play;
 But they don't look beneath at that
 villianOus hand
 That has libelled the daughters and
 sons of their land
 Their hearts may be right, but theil
 heads have gone wrong,
 When unblushing they mix with thai I kind of throng.
 If the press and the pulpit would take
 up the cause
 There would soon be an end to thai
 kind of applause,
 And we hope this Aggression may have
 fne effect
 To insure for our country more loya
 respect.
 That brave Irish heart just now laid in the earth
 Was never ashamed of the land o1
 his birth;
 At the sound of her name the old hero
 would start, And his pale cheeks be dyed with tht blood from his heart;
 And no matter what number, wha
 rank -or what name,
 No one in his presence dare lessen hel
 fame. His love was as deep as the blue
 rolling sea,
 And he did a mans part to get Ire
 land free; : lr.,.