The time passed away with the present compairing,
And in soul-thrilling strains deeper sorrow declaring,
She sang Erin’s woes, and her Emmet’s no more!
“Oh, Erin! my country, your glory’s departed,
For tyrants and traitors have stabbed thy heart’s core,
Thy daughters have laved in the streams of affliction,
Thy patriots have fled, or are stretched in their gore.
Ruthless ruffians now prowl through thy hamlets forsaken
From pale hungry orphans their last morsels have taken;
The screams of thy females no pity awaken;