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222 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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That chainless wave and lovely land Freedom and Nationhood demand ; Be sure the great God never planned For slumbering slaves a home so grand. And long a brave and haughty race Honored and sentineled the place — Sing, oh ! not even their sons' disgrace Can quite destroy their glory's trace.
For often, in O'Connor's van, To triumph dashed each Connaught clan, And fleet as deer the Normans ran Through Curlieu's Pass and Ardrahan, And later times saw deeds as brave; And glory guards Clanricarde's grave — Sing, oh ! they died their land to save, At Aughrim's slopes and Shannon's wave.
■And if, when all a vigil keep, The West's asleep, the West's asleep — Alas ! and well may Erin weep, That Connaught lies in slumber deep. But hark ! some voice like thunder spake: " The West's awake ! the West's awake ! " Sing, oh ! hurrah ! let England quake; We'll watch till death for Erin's sake. |
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