Kentucky Irish American. (Louisville, Ky.) 1898-1968, 1916-03-17
Irish Earth Saturated With Blood
of Her Many Martyrs
and Patriots.
Glens and Valleys Bedecked by the
Hand of Nature Are
Sparkling.
NOT A FURRow ON HER FACE.

Isolated and alone, fresh, bright
and sparkling, radiant in her virgin
beauty. as if newly fashioned by
the hand of God, sits Ireland on
the bosom of the Western sea.
Though older in historic recollec-
tiOns than Rome, and suffering
more from tyranny and wrong than
any other nation in the world, time
has not blanched her cheek and
there is not a furrow on her face.
Her hills are as green today, her
helds covered with a verdure which
belongs to no other land, are as
bright and beautiful as when first
at the divine command darkness
was dispelled and light burst upon
the earth Her rivers, bright as
the sunlight that warns them, and
pure as the hearts that beat upon
their banks, flow on to the sea
through glens and valleys bedecked
by the hand of nature in a garb
of beauty, fringed with flowers and
leafy foliage, and begirt with noun
tains green with verdure to the
very summit. Her magnificent
lakes are unsurpassed for beauty
and grandeur by any others in the
world. The very names of the Irish
rivers and lakes ars musical and
sound as sweet as the tones of
harp when touched By a master
hand. The Saxon for a time has
robbed us of our inheritance. but
ne has failed to entirely obliterate
the language of our fathers, and so
the lakes, rivers and mountains are
still named in the soft flowing lam
guage of the Gael. Gaze upon Loeb
Neagh, Loeb Lene, Loeb Corrib or
Loeb Con, and say can Italy with
all her magnificence boast of such
gems as these? Had Byron seen
Killarney or the Lee he would never
have sung of the scenery of the
Rhine or the beauty of Lake
Leman. Sail down the Shannon as
1t passes the battered walls of Linz
erick and Athlone, or stand on the
banks of the Munster Blackwater
or the shores of the Foyle, look
upon Clew Bay, Galway, the Liffey,
the Slaney or the SUR and con-
fess that Ireland is the garden of
the world. Sleivenamon, towering
to the skies, looks down upon the
golden vale" of green Tipperary,
so grandly rich in beauty and fer
tility that it drew an exclamation
of delight from the rough and
rugged breast of Cromwell. And
There is not one square foot of
Irish earth but has been saturated
a hundred times with the blood of
martyrs and patriots. Other and
more happier lands, basking in the
sunlight of freedom, may invite the
traveller to their shores, and point
out With pride their grandeur and
their civilization. But Ireland can
point to the enduring monuments
which dot her surface, the round
towers, raised 5000 years ago,
which tell of a civilization at
tanned by our fathers when the ma
tions of today were lost in the dark
ness of barbarism.
From Cape Clear to the Cause
way the ruins of Abbeys, churches
and castles start up at every turn,
and every spot is teeming with his
toric memories. The Shannon is
the largest river in any island in
the world, and Neagh is the largest
lake in Great Britain or Ireland.
The Northern Blackwater passes
through a tract of country upon
which England for the space of 500
hundred years was unable to plant
her flag. It's banks have been the
scene Of many a bloody battle and
its waves have been Redeemed with
the blood of many a Dane and |
Saxon. The Bel fires of our pagan
fathers have cleaned to the sky
from the summit of Croagh Pat |
rick in the long, long ages ago, per-
haps before the foundation of the
first pyramid was laid or the laid
of Homer sung.
The Bay of Dublin is the most
beautiful in the world, and is
scarcely equaled by the Bay of
Naples. The cove (known now by
the vulgar name of Queenstown |
is the most capacious harbor in the
world, and Justly celebrated for its
beauty. The Rhine, studded with
castles and vineyards, has been for
years the delight and admiration of
London Cockneys and aristocratic
snobs. But do the German vine
Yards yield to the delighted senses
a more fragrant odor than the
beautiful perfumes waited by the
wind all over the island from the
budding hawthorn, the furze and
Thurman that grow on the banks
of the Shannon2 Can the Rhine
in all its boosted grandeur COM
pare with that bright and mag
nifcent river as It stretches out its
broad waters below Limerick and
rushes to the embrace of the sea2
There is no land on the globe so
beautiful and no land so much
Neglected Her beauty has been
ner curse. The savage Mortimer