Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/55

Rh

Woe to the land of Con,$1$ for o'er the plains The bounteous soil his sons in freedom trod; With blind and fierce misrule, the spoiler reigns. And mocks and mars the eternal laws of God.

Outcast in climes remote, his children weep. Conjuring Him to be our safety's tower; Who from the writhing monster of the deep Redeemed the trembling prophet of his power—

Stretched forth his hand to Noah's faithful race; And bade them o'er the waves securely ride, That veiled a slumbering world—He can release Our sinking land—in Him our hopes abide.