Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/59

Rh

Does thy spirit despond that these wolves$1$ perfidious,
 * forsworn,

Should banish God's priests, and laugh his religion to
 * scorn;

Feeble, exiled, is Charles, the son of the monarch we
 * loved,

Far, far from the hearts, that would bleed to sustain him,
 * removed.

Oh foul is the treason, that bids us our truth abjure. Our faith to our own regal race—oh! dark and impure The breast that devised, and the traitor lip that proclaims Our throne and our truth to belong to any but James.