Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/159

Rh Always the same—but yet a glinting prism:
 * In wit, law, statecraft, still a master-hand;

An "uncrowned king," whose people's love was chrism;
 * His title—Liberator of his Land!

"His heart's in Rome, his spirit is in heaven"—
 * So runs the old song that his people sing;

A tall Round Tower they builded in Glasnevin—
 * Fit Irish headstone for an Irish king!

O Motherland! there is no cause to doubt thee:
 * Thy mark is left on every shore to-day.

Though grief and wrong may cling like robes about thee.
 * Thy motherhood will keep thee queen alway.

In faith and patience working, and believing
 * Not power alone can make a noble state: