Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/95

Rh

Ye daughters of loveliness! dim not your eyes,
 * By sorrow unclouded too seldom;

The days are at hand when your heroes shall rise.
 * And your foes be in trouble and thraldom.
 * No Sassanach band
 * Shall fling o'er the land
 * All the sufferings and sorrows that can be;
 * The chains of a slave
 * Shall not fetter the brave,—
 * With a blessing we'll fit them on Shane Bui!

Though spoiled of the land where our fathers have reigned;
 * Though bound to the plough and the harrow;

Though goaded to life we feebly sustained
 * The tasks of a hard-hearted Pharaoh;