DEATH’S VICTORY.
IN MEMORIAM JOHN BOYLE O’REILLY.
THE Poet may grieve for his Art’s vacant throne;
The Patriot mourn for a brave spirit flown;
For the loss of a hero the Soldier may sigh,
And the Church miss a star from her glorious sky.
But with these ’tis not death—for through every age,
In the lore of the Student, in History’s page,
In the stories they tell, the examples they give,
Of Genius and Truth—he will live! he will live!
With the cypress the laurel of glory shall twine
To deck the white shaft that will rise o’er his shrine;
In sunshine a banner, in darkness a flame,
To his land and his kindred shall long be his name.
But to those who have loved him, oh! what can replace
The grasp of his hand or the light of his face,
The true, tender friendship an angel might prize,
That played round his lips and that shone in his eyes?
Ah! for us, faithful heart, he is lost in the grave
Till he welcomes us, too, over death’s dismal wave;
No solace can sweeten one tear that we shed—
He lives to the world, but to us he is dead.
THE GREEN FLAG AT FREDERICKSBURG.
BEAR it up, bear it up, through the clouds of the battle,
On, on, through the smoke and the glare;
Though in hail-storms the balls from yon black ramparts rattle,
We will plant it triumphantly there.
Though now, by the eddying war-dust beclouded,
’Twas lost at the base of the hill,
See again, on its summit, in flame-wreaths enshrouded,
Our flag waves triumphantly still!
We have marched ’neath its folds over meadow and mountain,
In sunshine and shower, side by side;
To guard it we opened our hearts’ living fountain,
Till it flowed in a hot crimson tide;
And guard it we will for the dear ones who love us,
Till death bids our warm hearts be chill,
And our foes even then shall behold that above us
Our flag waves triumphantly still!
’Tis the flag that our sires and our grandsires died under;
The flag that our children shall bear
When at home in the old land the cannon’s dread thunder
Knells Tyranny’s doom on the air.
’Twill be born o’er the foam-crested waves of the ocean,
And true hearts in Ireland shall thrill
To see in the land of their love and devotion
Our flag wave triumphantly still.