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io4 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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For freedom or valour no more canst thou see In the home of the brave, in the isle of the free.
Affliction's dark waters your spirits have bowed, And oppression hath wrapped all your land in its
shroud, Since first from the Brehon's' pure justice you strayed And bent to those laws the proud Saxon has made.
We know not our country, so strange is her face ; Her sons, once her glory, are now her disgrace; Gone, gone is the beauty of fair Innisfail, For the stranger now rules in the land of the Gael.
Where, where are the woods that oft rung to your
cheer, Where you waked the wild chase of the wolf and the
deer? Can those dark heights, with ramparts all frowning
and riven, Be the hills where your forests waved brightly in
heaven ?
O bondsmen of Egypt, no Moses appears To light your dark steps thro' this desert of tears ! Degraded and lost ones, no Hector is nigh To lead you to freedom, or teach you to die ! |
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1 Brehons, the hereditary judges of the Irish septs. |
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