That left its venom there,
To madden in many a midnight cave.
Be silent, wretches!—spare the grave!
All is done; he is buried—the crowd depart,
He is laid in his kindred clay,
There, freed from the torture that ate his heart,
He rests, till the last great day.
O THOU! who alone canst defend and save,
Wake Ireland wise from this lowly grave.
[Greek: Aion.]