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250 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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DR. WILLIAM DRENNAN (i754-1820)
ERIN
W
HEN Erin first rose from the dark swelling flood God blessed the green Island, and saw it was good; The em'rald of Europe, it sparkled and shone — In the ring of the world the most precious stone. In her sun, in her soil, in her station thrice blest, With her back towards Britain, her face to the West, Erin stands proudly insular on her steep shore, And strikes her high harp 'mid the ocean's deep roar.
But when its soft tones seem to mourn and to weep, The dark chain of silence is thrown o'er the deep; At the thought of the past the tears gush from her eyes And the pulse of her heart makes her white bosom rise. Oh ! sons of green Erin, lament o'er the time When religion was war and our country a crime; When man in God's image inverted his plan, And molded his God in the image of man;
When the int'rest of State wrought the general woe, The stranger a friend and the native a foe; While the mother rejoiced o'er her children oppressed And clasped the invader more close to her breast; |
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