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IRISH MELODIES. |
23 |
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COME, SEND ROUND THE WINE.
Comb, send round the wine, and leave points of belief
To simpleton sages, and reasoning fools ; This moment's a flower too fair and brief,
To be wither'd and stain'd by the dust of the schools. Your glass may be purple, and mine may be blue,
But, while they are fill'd from the same bright bowl, The fool, who wrould quarrel for difference of hue,
Deserves not the comfort they shed o'er the soul.
Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side
In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried,
If he kneel not before the same altar with me ? From the heretic girl of my soul should I fly,
To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss ? No, perish the hearts, and the laws that try
Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this! |
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SUBLIME WAS THE WARNING.
Sublime was the warning that Liberty spoke, And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke
Into life and revenge from the conqueror's chain. Oh, Liberty ! let not this spirit have rest, Till it move, like a breeze, o'er the waves of the wes Give the light of your look to each sorrowing spot, Nor, oh, be the Shamrock of Erin forgot,
While you add to your garland the Olive of Spain! c 4 |
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