Ways of War A TERRIBLE and splendid trust, Heartens the host of Innisfail; Their dream is of the swift sword-thrust; The lightning glory of the Gael. Croagh Patrick is the place of prayers, From Dursey Isle to Donegal, From Howth to Achill, the glad noise Rings and the airs of glory fall, Or victory crowns their fighting joys. A dream! a dream! an ancient dream! That field may lie beneath the sun, Some way, to faithful Innisfail, Shall come the majesty and awe Of martial truth, that must prevail, To lay on all the eternal law. LIONEL JOHNSON. This Heritage to the Race of Kings THIS heritage to the race of kings, Their children and their children's seed Have wrought their prophecies in deed Of terrible and splendid things. The hands that fought, the hearts that broke These have not failed beneath the skies, And still their hands shall guard the sod No alien sword shall earn as wage JOSEPH PLUNKETT. The Irish Rapparees RIGH SHEMUS he has gone to France, and left his crown behind; Ill luck be theirs, both day and night, put running in his mind Lord Lucan followed after, with his Slashers brave and true, And now the doleful keen is raised-"What will poor Ireland do? What must poor Ireland do? Our luck," they say, "has gone to France-what can poor Ireland do?" Oh! never fear for Ireland, for she has soldiers still; The jewel were you, Rory, with your Irish Rapparees! Oh, black's your heart, Clan Oliver, and colder than the clay! Oh, high's your head, Clan Sassenach, since Sarsfield's gone away! It's little love you bear to us, for the sake of long ago But hold your hand, for Ireland still can strike a deadly blow Can strike a mortal blow Och, dar-a-Críost 'tis she that still Could strike a deadly blow. The Master's bawn, the Master's seat, a surly bodagh fills; The Master's son, an outlawed man, is riding on the hills. But God be praised that round him throng, as thick as summer bees, The swords that guarded Limerick wall-his faithful Rapparees! His loving Rapparees! Who dare say "no" to Rory Oge, with all his Rapparees? Black Billy Grimes of Latnamard, he racked us long and sore God rest the faithful hearts he broke !-we'll never see them more But I'll go bail he'll break no more, while Truagh has gallows trees; For why?-he met one lonely night, the fearless Rapparees The angry Rapparees! They never sin no more, my boys, who cross the Rapparees. Now, Sassenach and Cromweller, take heed of what I sayKeep down your black and angry looks, that scorn us night and day: For there's a just and wrathful Judge, that every action sees, And He'll make strong, to right our wrong, the faithful Rapparees! The fearless Rapparees! The men that rode by Sarsfield's side, the roving Rapparees! See Note Page 353. CHARLES Gavan Duffy. The Memory of the Dead WHO fears to speak of Ninety-Eight? Who blushes at the name? When cowards mock the patriot's fate, We drink the memory of the brave, Some lie far off beyond the wave, All, all are gone; but still lives on Some on the shores of distant lands |