The Irish standard., 1915-02-13

To break the strength of Egypt's
band,
And set thee free,
Loved Ireland!
New energies, from higher source,
Must make the strong life-currents
flow,
AS Alpine glaciers in their course
Stir the deep torrents meath the snow.
The woman's voice dies in the strife
OF liberty's awakening life;
We wait the hero heart to lead,
The hero, who can guide at need,
And strike with holder, stronger hand,
Though towering hosts his path with
stand, ~.
Thy golden harp, =
Loved Ireland!
For can breathe no trumpet call,
To make the slumbering soul arise;
l only lift the funeral pail,
That so Gods light might touch thine
eyes,
And ring the silver prayer-bell clear,
To rouse thee from thy trance of fear;
Yet, if thy mighty heart has stirred,
Even with one pulse.throb at my word,
Then not in vain my woman's hand
Has struck the gold harp while stand
Waiting thy rise.
Loved Ireland"
What inspiration the foregoing
verses should be to the Irish women
Of today! Even as they must have
been to the Irish women of those far
off days. yet the story of Ireland has
not changed much, only the methods
employed to denationalize her, are
vastly different and worthy of the de-
mons of hell!
Mary" the youngest and gentlest
of the Nation trinity" was Ellen
Downing, born in Cork March 18th,
1928. She first wrote over her init
ials, and afterward signed her verses
Mary" She also contributed to the
United Irishman" and to the Cork
Magazine" According to Mr.. A. NJ
Sullivan, she formed an attachment
for one of the "Young Ireland" writ.
ers. Al,
In 1S4S he became a fugitive; in for.
eign climes he learned to forget home
vows. Mary" sank under the blow.
She put by the Tyre and sought Sc
clusion in convent, taking the name
of Sister Mary Alphonsus. She died
in 1869, according to Mr.. Sullivan's
biography, victim of unrequited
love. l am inclined to take the oppo-
site view. Fron r poems it can be
easily seen that MARY" had deep
religious strain in her nature, she was
think a religious" at heart, even
though for time she may have fan
cied herself in loYe with the young
Irelander." She wrote a beautiful
poem at st. Agnes, which shows the
depth of her religious fervor. The
brilliant young Irelander" must have
held her affections for time, accord.
ing to the following:
"TaIk by the BIackwater."
Faint are the breezes, and pure is
| the time,
Soft is the sunshine, and you by my
side;
'Tis just such an evening to dream in
deep sleep;
IT'S just such Joy to remember and
weep;
Never before since you called me your
Were you, l, and nature so proudly
alone, M
Cushlamachree, tits blessed to be
All the long summer eve talking to
thee. in.
Dear are the green banks we wander
upon;
Dear Is our own river, glancing along;
Bearer the trust that as tranquil will
| be
The tides of the future for you and
for me;
Dearest the thought that, come veal
or come woe.
Through storm or sunshine together
they'll flow
Cushlamachree, tits blessed to be
All the long summer eve thinking
of thee.
Yon bark DER the waters, how swiftly
1t glides!
My thoughts cannot guess to what
haven 1t rides;
AS little know what the future
brings near;
But our bark is the same, and har.
Dor no fear;
Whatever our fortunes, our hearts will
Wherever the stream flows. twill
bear me to you
Cushlamachree, tits blessed to be
Summer and wintertime clinging to
thee"
The women Of the Trish race TODAY