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HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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The heart that had been mourning o'er vanished dreams of love, Should see them all returning—like Noah's faithful dove; And Hope should launch her blessed hark on Sorrow's dark'ning sea, And Mls'ry's children have an Ark, and saved from sinking be. Oh! thus I'd play th' enchanter's part, thus scatter bliss around, And not a tear, nor aching heart, should in the world be found! |
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FAUGH-A-BALLAGH.
"Hope no more for Fatherland,
All its ranks are thinned or broken;"
Long a base and coward band
Recreant words like these have spoken
But we preach a land awoken:
Fatherland is true and tried,
As your fears are false and hollow;
Slaves and Dastards stand aside—
Knaves and Traitors, Faugh-a-Ballagh.
Know ye, suffering brethren ours, Might is strong, but Right is stronger; Saxon wiles or Saxon powers Can enslave our land no longer Than your own dissensions wrong her; Be ye on© in might and mind-Quit the mire where cravens wallow— And your foes shall flee like wind From your fearless Faugh-a-Ballagh.
Thus the mighty multitude Speak In accents hoarse with sorrow— "We are fallen, but unsubdued; Show us whence we Hope may borrow, And we'll fight your fight to-morrow. Be but cautious, true, and brave, Where ye lead us, we will follow; Hill and valley, rock and wave Soon shall hear our Faugh-a-Ballagh.
Fling our banner to the wind, Studded o'er with names of glory; Worth and wit, and might and mind, Poet young, and Patriot hoary, Long shall make it shine in story. Close your ranks—the moment's come— Now, ye men of Ireland follow; Friends of Freedom, charge them home— Foes of Freedom, Faugh-a-Ballagh. |
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WHEN THE SWALLOWS HOMEWAED ELY.
When the swallows homeward fly, When the roses scattered He, When, from neither hill nor dale. Chants the silvery nightingale. Chorus.—In these words my bleeding heart Would-to thee its grief Impart: Shall we ever meet again? Parting, ah! parting, parting Is pain, Parting, ah! parting, parting is pain!
When the white swan southward roves. There to seek the orange groves, When the red tints of the West Prove the sun has gone to rest: Chorus.—In these words my bleeding heart Would to thee its grief Impart: Shall we ever meet again? Parting, ah! parting, parting is pain, Parting, ah! parting, parting Is pain! |
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