Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand,
And swear to prevail in your dear native land!
EXILE OF ERIN.[78]
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill:
For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day-star attracted his eye’s sad devotion,