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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 103 |
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Like a bark on the ocean, long shattered and tost, On the land of your fathers at length you are lost; The hand of the spoiler is stretched on your plains, And you're doomed from your cradles to bondage and chains. ,
O where is the beauty that beamed on thy brow ? Strong hand in the battle, how weak art thou now ! That heart is now broken that never would quail, And thy high songs are turned into weeping and wail.
Bright shades of our sires ! from your home in the
. skies O blast not your sons with the scorn of your eyes ! Proud spirit of Gollam,1 how red is thy cheek, For thy freemen are slaves, and thy mighty are weak!
O'Neil of the Hostages; 5 Con,3 whose high name
On a hundred red battles has floated to fame,
Let the long grass still sigh undisturbed o'er thy
sleep; Arise not to shame us, awake not to weep.
In thy broad wing of darkness enfold us, O night! Withhold, O bright sun, the reproach of thy light!
1 Gollam, a name of Milesius, the Spanish progenitor of the Irish O's and Macs.
2 Nial of the Nine Hostages, the heroic monarch of Ireland in the fourth century, and ancestor of the O'Neil family.
3 Con Cead Catha, Con of the Hundred Fights, monarch of the island in the second century. Although the fighter of a hundred battles, he was not the victor of a hundred fields; his valorous rival Owen, King of Munster, compelled him to a division of the kingdom. |
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