IRISH NATIONALIST POETRY
[From the abundance of poetry which has been inspired by the Irish Nationalist cause, the two following poems have been selected as characteristic. The first, by Michael Scanlan, has been called the Marseillaise of the Fenian movement. The second is by Fanny Parnell.]
THE FENIAN MEN
See who come over the red-blossomed heather,
Their green banners kissing the pure mountain air,
Heads erect, eyes to front, stepping proudly together,
Sure freedom sits throned in each proud spirit there!
Down the hills twining,
Their blessed steel shining
Like rivers of beauty they flow from each glen,
From mountain and valley, 'tis liberty's rally
Out, and make way for the Fenian Men!
Our prayers and our tears have been scoffed and derided,
They've shut out God's sunlight from spirit and mind;
Our foes were united and we were divided,
We met, and they scattered us all to the wind;
But once more returning,
Within our veins burning
The fires that illumined dark Aherlou glen,
We raise the old cry anew,
Slogan of Con and Hugh,
Out, and make way for the Fenian Men!
We have men from the Nore, from the Suir, and the Shannon;
Let the tyrants come forth, we'll bring force against force;
Our pen is the sword and our voice is the cannon,
Rifle for rifle, horse against horse.
We've made the false Saxon yield
Many a red battle-field,
God on our side we will do so again;
Pay them back woe for woe,
Give them back blow for blow,
Out, and make way for the Fenian Men!
Side by side for this cause have our forefathers battled
When our hills never echoed the tread of a slave;
On many green fields, where the leaden hail rattled
Thro' the red gap of glory they marched to the grave,
And we who inherit
Their names and their spirit
Will march 'neath our banner of liberty;
then All who love Saxon law
Native or Sassenah
Out, and make way for the Fenian Men!
Up for the cause, then, fling forth our green banners,
From the east to the west, from the south to the north—
Irish land, Irish men, Irish mirth, Irish manners—
From the mansion and cot let the slogan go forth;
Sons of old Ireland now,
Love you our sireland now?
Come from the kirk, or the chapel, or glen;
Down with all faction old;
Concert and action bold,
This is the creed of the Fenian Men!
POST-MORTEM
Shall mine eyes behold thy glory, O my country,
Shall mine eyes behold thy glory?
Or shall the darkness close around them ere the sun blaze
Break at last upon thy story?