In front of Ireland's chivalry is that Fitzgerald's place:
And, though the last were dead and gone, how many a field and town,
From Thomas Court to Abbeyfeile, would cherish their renown,
And men would say of valour's rise, or ancient power's decline,
"'Twill never soar, it never shone, as did the Geraldine."
VIII.
The Geraldines! the Geraldines!—and are there any fears
Within the sons of conquerors for full a thousand years?
Can treason spring from out a soil bedewed with martyrs' blood?
Or has that grown a purling brook, which long rushed down a flood?—