Newark leader. ([Newark, Ohio]) 1917-1946, 1922-01-27
IRELAND
(By John Bush)

(By John Bush)
o, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of
earth,
That 1 am meek and gentle with these
butchers.
Thou art the ruins of the noblest men
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Over voluminous sheets of paper,
oceans of ink have been spread, conut-
less lives sacrificed, entailing incon-
ceivable grief and wretchedness. Yet
with all the welding of pen and
sword, actuated by an undaunted
spirit of justice and liberty, Ireland
is still bleeding piece of earth.
He that rebels against reason is a
real rebel, but he that in the defense
of reason rebels against tyranny is
courageous in the true sense of the
word.
Ireland's condition is the effect of
a cause, and if it were possible to tear
the mask of democracy from the real
rebels who skulk behind, the cause Of
seven hundred and fifty years strug-
gle would have long since been drawn
to a successful conclusion.
The ratification of the treaty Jan.
Z, by a vote of ga to ST., is only
fictitious pact which will not give to
Ireland what is due, nor will it stay
England's ruthless hand.
What Ireland wants is Ireland. The
Irish have become tired of being loot
ed, tired of writing and reading and
signing petitions and presenting them
on their bended knees to despotic
king. They have burning aspiration
to form a new nation, to be citizens of
a new republic instead of subjects of
an old monarchy. 1t is frequently
said that religion was the cause of all
the discord. Such a statement is false.
Those who are struggling for a free
Ireland have pledged each other to
forget their religious prejudices and
recognize only one religion, and that
is the religion of patriotism. They
have solemnly agreed that the new
nation should not belong to any par
ticular church, but that it should Sc
cure the rights of ALL
lrelands struggle is pathetic and
beyond conception. When we muse
upon the scene we see thousands of
assemblages and hear the appeals of
orators, we see the pale cheeks of
women, and the flushed faces of men.
We picture those who are today de-
parting for the scene of battle. We
see them part with those they love-
Some are walking for the last time
IN quiet woody places with the maidens
they adore. We hear the whisperings
and the sweet vows of eternal love as
they lingeringly part forever. Others
are bending over cradles kissing babes
that are asleep. Some are parting
with mothers who hold them and
press them to their hearts again and
again and say nothing; and some are
talking with wives, endeavoring with
brave words to drive away the awful
fear. We see them part. We see the
wife, standing in the door with the
babe IN her arms, standing in the sun
light sobbing. At the turn of the
road a hand waves, she answers by
holding high in her loving hands the
child. He is gone and forever. We
see them all as they march proudly
away under the Haunting flag, keep
ing time to the wild grand music of
war, marching to the field of glory
to do and to die for the eternal right.
We picture them in the awful fray,
pierced by ball and torn with shell,
in the trenches of forts and in the
whirlwind of the charge, where men
become iron with nerves of steel.
The most pathetic scene of all is
the home, when the news comes that |
some hero is dead We see the |
maiden in the shadow of her first sor-
row; we see the silvered heads of the
father and mother bowed with the
last grief.
The question We Americans should
ask ourselves is: What would we have
been today if we had remained colon
lists and subjects? Nobo0ies, ready to
get down on our knees and crawl in
the very dust at the sight of some
body that was supposed to have in
him some drop of blood that flowed
in the veins of those mailed maraud-
ers, those royal robbers, William the
Conqueror or Henry VIII.
No man could resist being heart
and soul in sympathy with Ireland
had he witnessed the scenes the writer
has viewed. He has seen the thumb
screws and the racks, and looked into
the dungeons, stood by the beheading
block of Sir Walter Raleigh and Mary
Stuart, and stood where rest the re-
mains of the executed wives of that
fiendish immoral King, Henry VIII.
These are but few of the many {
scenes that tend to show the dis
position of the people who have for l
seven hundred and fifty years robbed {
and suppressed Ireland.