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Show J IRELAND. O, Isle fo;llorn. of God's green earth, That rifles o'er the sea The motheVland that gave me birth. And dearest far to me! Within my heart there eprings the hope That tli(u mayst soon be free! The time will come at beat of drum, When aliant souls will go, And strai q;htway sail above the swale Of oceal i's ceaseless floA-, To free tl ie isle where shamrocks smile At one successful blow. , - Then to God's praise would swiftly rajs' A new 'Republic there; With rev rrent tread and unveiled head, Would breathe the grateful prayer; "Old Irel md dear, our help is here, , And th u shalt be our care!" And freer ien then would once again Have yi 'its that freemen share; While rais od on high to glad the eye, The gref n flag waves in air; And from its strings the wild harp singf : "See, ty ants, and beware!" - -Otis Marion, in The Pilot.- |
