Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/148

136 Dead—but the death was fitting:
 * His life, to the latest breath,

Was poured like wax on the chart of right,
 * And is sealed by the stamp of Death!

Dead—but the end was fitting:
 * First in the ranks he led;

And he marks the height of his nation's gain,
 * As he lies in his harness—dead!

Weep for him, Ireland—mother lonely;
 * Weep for the son who died for thee.

Wayward he was, but he loved thee only,
 * Loyal and fearless as son could be.

Weep for him, Ireland—sorrowing nation
 * Faithful to all who are true to thee:

Never a son in thy desolation
 * Had holier love for thy cause than he.