The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — 1844-04-30 (Liverpool, Merseyside, England)

GAY.  We hate the -axon and the Dane, And the rude Norman men,— We curs'd their greed tor blood and ga'n, And we curse them now again. Yet start not, Irish born-man, If you're to Ireland true,We heed not blood, nor creed, nor clan,— We have no curse for you " Nation, April 13, 1344.  You need not rake such wondrous pains To make your different castes app !ar, 'Twixt "Irish born" and English " Danes," And •• Saxons" there, and " Saxons" here; We see your scorn behind your smile, You deep, deceitful Popish crew ! You hate us, one and oh! the while— But, God be praised, we know you do!  Then welcome be your honest curse, You c ingirig, wheedling Gaelic Bard! We like your proffered blessings w rse— But both demand our just regard. We thank you for your hate professed— 'Tis genuine, and we'll prize it well. But for your love, jest now expressed. We doubt it—for it smacks of Mil!  What ! think you that of all the lot One • ingle " Saxon" can he led, To trust you that you hate him not, Because he', Irish born and 'red ? No!—all your love, at twice its worth, . Is hardly value for a laugh ! And the tried game-cocks of the north Are tar too old to peck at chaff.  Tor many a ely device you search. To rive our empires' triple parts— 'But 'tis the .oyal, twin-born church You aim at in your real hearts 1— 'What chances of success you have Let. Hillsbordsr cord-book attest— . And those who further knowledge crave From Henry Cooke may learn the rest!  Vain ! vain is all your specious cant, Your quibbl ng about native earth ! "Tis not the "Dane"—but " Protestant" You ha a !—aud hate whe, e'er his birth, For, find his cradle where you  Abroad—at home—on sea or sod— You hat? him !—and you've done so sill, To please your Po e—and he's your God !  Oh ! Rome. you show ioir inmost soul it bene'er we meet you face to face! We can discern your Jz•suit scowl Out through your Pharisaic grace I Ay, we can read upon your brow. And cut ling lip, and sbarpset tooth,* As plain as you do preach them no•v. The class-book lesson of blaynooth! vii. We know you. Rome ! in • eart and skin ! We see—we see your fine pretence, To draw the gaping patriot in. And work upon his passive sense I So do at once your artful mask— Your subt est tricks are understood ; And cease your nice distinctive task Of analysing British blood ! viii. From root to branch the Norman tree And every golden fruit it bears You hate ! because so fair and free To Heaven its outs,•read arms it rears 1 You hate our Bible hate our schools— You hate our clergy—hate our creed— And oath- bou d to your murderous rules Your hate, in word—you prove in deed!  The stake—the scaffold—and the wheel Have witnessed it in many a clime And mahy an age—and now the steel Is ready—and you " bide your time I" Bide on ! bide on !—you treacherous baud, From month to month and year to year— Our eye is fixed upon your hand, And rest assured we'il keep it there !  Oh ! boast away your '• year of work"— Your "shoulder bared" and " gaded loin;" Your "groups" may line the Lee, at Cork, But will they dare to stem " the Boyne ?" No—no—they won't—the hue that lies In Munster shamrocks fresh and fair, In Ulster's climate fades and flies, Too puny for " the lily's" air l  Yes you may hoist the flag of green ! We have the " Orange and the Blue !" A banner that sh H ne'er be seen, Unless to make you dearly rue ! And we have hearts, whe e'er you come, At broad noon-day or depth of night, 'To meet and chase your millions tome ! And God, we know, will guard the right I  * " Dens" might properly enough be considered the very "eye-tooth" of Popery, which, as soon as the young priest has cut, he can see his way pretty plainly before him.