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IRISH MELODIES. |
139 |
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The minstrels have seiz'd their harps of gold,
And they sing such thrilling numbers, — 'Tis like the voice of the Brave, of old,
Breaking forth from their place of slumbers! Spear to buckler rang As the minstrels sang, And the Sun-burst *o'er them floated wide; While rememb'ring the yoke Which their fathers broke, " On for liberty, for liberty ! " the Finians cried.
Like clouds of the night the Northmen came,
O'er the valley of Almhin lowering; While onward mov'd, in the light of its fame, That banner of Erin, towering.
With the mingling shock
Rung cliff and rock, While, rank on rank, the invaders die:
And the shout that last
O'er the dying pass'd Was "Victory! victory! "—the Finian's cry. |
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The name given to the banner of the Irish. |
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