V.
Fear not, oh! my brother, then, that any
Will hush Ierne's harp at man's command;
For phylacteries of misery too many,
Are bound upon all foreheads in the land.
Let others bow in abject genuflexion—
Sue from Pity what they ought to claim as right;
By God's grace we'll stand by our election—
Freedom, Knowledge, Independence, Truth, and Light!