Page:English as we speak it in Ireland - Joyce.djvu/170

 CH. XI.] And there hung the lute that could soften
 * My very worst pains into bliss,
 * And the hand that had waked it so often
 * Now throbb'd to my proud rival's kiss.


 * Already the curse is upon her
 * And strangers her valleys profane;
 * They come to divide—to dishonour—
 * And tyrants there long will remain:
 * But onward—the green banner rearing,
 * Go flesh ev'ry brand to the hilt:
 * On our side is Virtue and Erin,
 * And theirs is the Saxon and Guilt.


 * I flew to the room—'twas not lonely:
 * My wife and her grawls were in bed;
 * You'd think it was then and then only
 * The tongue had been placed in her head.
 * For there raged the voice that could soften
 * My very worst pains into bliss,
 * And those lips that embraced me so often
 * I dared not approach with a kiss.


 * A change has come surely upon her:—
 * The child which she yet did not wane
 * She flung me—then rolled the clothes on her,
 * And naked we both now remain.
 * But had I been a man less forbearing
 * Your blood would be certainly spilt,
 * For on my side there's plunging and tearing
 * And on yours both the blankets and quilt.

I was a pupil in four of the higher class of schools, in which was finished my school education such as it was. The best conducted was that of Mr. John Condon which was held in the upper story of the market house in Mitchelstown, Co. Cork, a large apartment fully and properly furnished, forming an admirable schoolroom. This was one of the best