Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/130

118 Yea, they lied, they sinned, not knowing you—they had not gauged your love: Heaven bless you, Priests of Ireland, for the wisdom from above, For the strength that made you, loving them, crush back the tears that rose When your country's heart was quiv'ring 'neath the statesman's muffled blows: You saw clearer far than they did, and you grieved for Ireland's pain; But you did not rouse the people—and your silence was their gain; For too often has the peasant dared to dash his naked arm 'Gainst the sabre of the soldier: but you shielded him from harm. And your face was set against him—though your heart was with his hand When it flung aside the plough to snatch a pike for fatherland!