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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS |
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Kindly brothers of the West Who from Liberty's full breast Have fed us, who are orphans beneath a stepdame's frown, Behold our happy state And weep your wretched fate That you share not in the splendors of an empire and our crown !
Kindly brothers of the East,—
Thou great tiaraed priest, Thou sanctified Rienzi of Rome and of the earth,—
O thou who bear'st control
Over golden Istambol Who felt for our misfortunes and helped us in our dearth,—
Turn here your wondering eyes, Call your wisest of the wise, Your muftis and your ministers, your men of deepest lore; Let the sagest of your sages Ope our island's mystic pages, And explain unto your highness the wonders of our shore.
A fruitful, teeming soil, Where the patient peasants toil
Beneath the summer's sun and the watery winter sky; Where they tend the golden grain Till it bends up on the plain,
Then reap it for the stranger, and turn aside to die; |
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