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 Erin, the heart's best blood shall flow for thee. It is thy groans I hear—it is thy wounds I see. Cold sleep thy heroes in their silent grave: The leopard lords it o'er their last retreat. O'er hearts that once were free and brave, See the red banners proudly wave. They crouch, they fall before a tyrant's feet. The star of freedom sets, to rise no more. Quench'd is the immortal spark in endless night: Never again shall ray so fair, so bright, Arise o'er Erin's desolated shore."

No sooner had St. Clare ended, than Buchanan, joining with her and the rest of the rebels, gave signal for the long expected revolt. "Burn his castle—destroy his land," said St. Clare. Her followers prepared to obey: with curses loud and repeated, they vented their execration. Glenarvon, the idol they had once adored, they now with greater show of justice despised. "Were he only a villain," said one, "I, for my part, would pardon him: but he is a coward and a hypocrite: when he commits a wrong he turns it upon another: he is a