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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 45 |
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With the circling ocean's ring Thou wert made a spouse for it.
Hast thou kept as thou shouldst keep
Thy affections warm for it, Letting no cold feeling creep Like an ice-breath o'er the deep, Freezing to a stony sleep.
Hopes the heart would form for it, Glories that like rainbows peep
Through the darkening storm for it?
Son of this down-trodden land,
Aid us in the fight for it. We seek to make it great and grand, Its shipless bays, its naked strand, By canvas-swelling breezes fanned :
Oh ! what a glorious sight for it, The past expiring like a brand
In morning's rosy light for it!
Think, this dear old land is thine, And thou a traitor slave of it:
Think how the Switzer leads his kine,
When pale the evening star doth shine;
His song has home in every line, Freedom in every stave of it;
Think how the German loves his Rhine! And worships every wave of it!
Our own dear land is bright as theirs, But oh ! our hearts are cold for it; Awake ! we are not slaves but heirs. Our fatherland requires our cares, |
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