Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/27

Rh In loyal strife, to bid our holy fane Pour to approving heaven its welcome strain— And lofty spirits of Milesian line,$3$ Freely in their white, happy homes entwine— Proud and unfettered, from all controul, Save the bright spell that binds them soul to soul—

Ireland.—But rest thee now! a firmer hope remains!— A hand divine prepares to rend thy chains! The Mother of the Man-God shall invoke, The Eternal deal the liberating stroke. The Scot—the Gael—the rallying thousands come; The reeking sword half chokes the ravening tomb; And o'er the deep the festering boars$4$ shall flee, Racked with "the want, the woe," they wrought for thee.