The Golden Treasury of Irish Songs & Lyrics

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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 277
ROBERT EMMET (1778-1803)
Lines written on Arbor Hill burying-ground, Dublin, where the bodies of insurgents shot in 1798 were interred.
N O rising column marks this spot, Where many a victim lies; But oh ! the blood which here has streamed, To Heaven for justice cries.
It claims it on the oppressor's head,
Who joys in human woe, Who drinks the tears by misery shed,
And mocks them as they flow.
It claims it on the callous judge,
Whose hands in blood are dyed, Who arms injustice with the sword,
The balance throws aside.
It claims it for this ruined isle,
Her wretched children's grave; Where, withered Freedom droops her head.
And man exists—a slave.
O sacred Justice ! free this land
From tyranny abhorred; Resume thy balance and thy seat —
Resume—but sheathe thy sword.