THE EXPULSION OF SHANE BUI!1
BY JOHN D'ALTON.
Ye daughters of loveliness! dim not your eyes,
By sorrow unclouded too seldom;
The days are at hand when your heroes shall rise.
And your foes be in trouble and thraldom.
No Sassanach band
Shall fling o'er the land
All the sufferings and sorrows that can be;
The chains of a slave
Shall not fetter the brave,—
With a blessing we'll fit them on Shane Bui!
Though spoiled of the land where our fathers have reigned;
Though bound to the plough and the harrow;
Though goaded to life we feebly sustained
The tasks of a hard-hearted Pharaoh;
Yet when Charles shall come,
At the beat of his drum
No Williamite more shall a man be!
When the Stuarts draw nigh,
The long pampered shall fly,
And Erin be lightened of Shane Bui!
Gadelians my boys! shall then rule o'er the land,
And the churls shall be slaves as you now are;
Our armies will thrive under native command.
And our cities exult in their power.
The mass shall be sung,
And the bells shall be rung,
And bards to each Tanist and Clan be;
Fear and shame shall unite
To drive from our sight
Our heaven-cursed oppressors, and—Shane Bui!