The Irish standard., 1905-04-01
The Irish Have Never Apsstadzed From the
ii Belief in and the Love of Their
Ancient Fatherland.
Tho Sens of Ireland Have Always Been in
the First Line Of Those Who do the
Brunt Of the Worlds Work.

l1uSS OuL Cltdi duu SOu1u LuS COuV4C.
tion that Ireland is nation, and that
rather than see her a province or
shire of England, it were better to
pull up her foundations from the deep
and let her perish from the face OF
the earth.
There is potent witchery in the
word Ireland. 1t is like some tails
man OF old that had power to light
up the darkness over sea and land,
and reveal the manifold beauty and
the pleasures of life. TO her children,
far wandering over many seas,
pioneers of the newest times in the
worlds newest lands, foremost on the
far-fung line OF tomorrow's civiliza-
ton, that word ireland" is conjure-
word that wakes at once the light
ming in the blood, the tear in the eye,
in the heart the grim purposes OF
liberty, in the reminiscent soul the
echoes of old poetry and golden ro-
nance, the ardors of hope, the sweep
ing devotion of one Of those imperson-
al loves that lifts man out OF himself
and makes him kin to the pure spirits
The lovely green land, one Of
Natures shining emeralds, nightly
and cunningly embossed, veined, shad-
ed, is so long seat of human kind,
a stage of human endeavor, that its
very antiquity has forever drawn upon
it the wondering gaze OF men.
Here came the brown Phoenician,
The man of trade and toll
Here came the proud Milesian,
A-hungering for spoil;
And the Firbolg and the Cymry,
And the hard, enduring Dane,
And the iron lords of Normandy
With the Saxons in their train"
It is beautiful land That sweet
ct and truest of poets, Edmund Spen.
ser, could praise it's many lovely
/ rivers.
The Liffey rolling down the lea;
The spacious Shenan spreading like a
sea;
The pleasant Bandon crown'd with
many wood;
The spreading Lea that, like an island
fayre,
Encloseth Corke with his divided
flood"
Forever it's gaunt mountains lift
their solemn faces above the Atlantic.
It's golden wales are not unworthy of
paradise. Its gentle green slopes, its
tenderly curving uplands, it's rich
meadows and pasture lands were
made by God to be the home of a
happy and innocent race, and in the
shadowy patriarchal past, were, in
deed, the scene of virtues and deeds
that we shall never behold again. She
has had her share in the glory Of this
world. In prehistoric times she was
rich and powerful after the fashion of
those days when the whole world was
in motion, and the men Of Ireland
stood, where they are usually found,
in the first line of advancing battle,
until, worn and war-stained vanguard
as they were, they brought up on the
edge of the impenetrable Western sea
and fixed their tents on their last and
plasantest camping ground. Alone, of
the Western races, she never felt the
tramp of the legionary of Rome on
her sensitive soil, never saw his four
square rampant, nor beheld his fierce
and ravening eagles. He had tanned
the descendants of Herman and brok-
en- the spirit of brave Boadicea, but
he took care to never cross the Irish
sea and venture on the conquest Of
the Scott. Had he done so, perhaps
some happy O'Niell would have pre-
vented Alaric, climbed the throne of
the Caesars and imposed upon the
world the laws of the Brehons instead
of the laws of Rome!
Since the world became Christian