Which troubles with its rule a peaceful land?
“It is not we who troubling Liffey’s stream
Foul it with blood,” the threatened sheep exclaim;
“It was your fathers then that fouled it so,”
Retorts the wolf “a hundred years ago.”
The shepherd comes; he hears the distant howl
Of the wild beasts that o’er the country prowl;
In his right hand he wields a butcher’s knife,
And bids the lamb lie still and yield its life,
An offering to peace, a needful feast,