THE DEATH OF SARSFIELD.
Sarsfield has sailed from Limerick town-
He held it long for country and crown.
And ere he yielded, the Saxon swore
Oh spoil our homes And our shrines no more!
Sarsfield and all his chivalry
Are fighting for France in the low country-
At his fiery charge the Saxon reel,
They learned at Limerick to dread the steel!
Sarsfield is dying on Landen's plain.
His corselet hath met the ball in vain-
As his life-blood gushes into his hand,
He says, Oh, that this was for fatherland!
Sarsfield is dead, yet no tears shed we-
He died in the arms of victory;
And his dying words shall edge the brand.
When we chase the foe from our native land.