Oh! there's only one chance that can save us from wreck,
And help Dan to get rid of his foes in a bunch—
That the puppet may break, by good fortune, his neck,
As the showman some night makes a tumbler of Punch!
THE LEINSTER WAR-SONG.
I.
Bondsmen!—compatriots!—scoff of the stranger,
Grasp the war-torch, and the chain-breaking sword;
Or crouch, like lash'd hounds, at the foreigner's manger,
And lick the red scourge of your Sassenagh lord!
II.
Lo! thy proud chivalry, Leinster, advances!—
Wildly the "Rosg-Catha" swells from the glen—
The dance of thy banners—the flash of thy lances—
Awake Alleluiahs again and again.
III.
Rouse you!—for shame!—from the slumber of ages,
Sons of the murdered, by forest and caves—
Shout like the ocean, when fierce tempest rages,
Rise with the strength of ten millions of waves!
IV.
Light your war-brands at the flame of Kildara—
The "Sun-burst" has flapped her green wings on the gale!—
Take down the harp from the ruins of Tara,
And strike forth the march of array'd Innisfail!
V.
Sound a loud hymn; for the gathering Nation,
Surging and murmuring, heaves like the sea—
Sound! and full soon the glad harp-strings' vibration
Shall chime to the chorus of millions made free!
