V.
Oh, she's a fresh and fair land;
Oh, she's a true and rare land!
Yes, she's a rare and fair land—
This native land of mine.
THE SONG OF ULSTER.
I.
Gray mountains of Mourne—green vallies of Down—
Fair uplands of Farney and true Innishowen—
From your homesteads have come in the day of our need,
The stoutest of champions for country or creed—
The Men of the North.
II.
When darkness and danger encompassed our Isle,
And the Timid made cause with the Venal and Vile—
While her hope was the least, and her hazard the most,
Still, firm as Slievegullion, she found at their post
The Men of the North.
III.
The first to resist the false Saxon were they,
The latest to bend to his tyrannous sway,
In his weakness a goad—in his triumph a curb—
Bear witness Blackwater, Clontibret, Benburb,
For the Men of the North.
IV.
Oh! proud was the day, when the charge of the Gael,
Like a thunder-storm scattered the sons of the Pale;
And the strength of the Saxon, like stubble went down
Before the strong septs of the cross and the crown,[1]
The Men of the North.
- ↑ The well-known arms of the confederated chiefs of Ulster.
