Page:The Spirit of the Nation.djvu/102

6 Across the main his brothers twain Were sent to pine and rue; And still they turn'd, with hearts that burn'd, In hopeless love to you, Dear land— In hopeless love to you.

IV.

My boyish ear still clung to hear Of Erin's pride of yore, Ere Norman foot had dar'd pollute Her independent shore. Of chiefs long dead who rose to head Some gallant patriot few, Till all my aim on earth became To strike one blow for you, Dear land— To strike one blow for you.

V.

What path is best your rights to wrest, Let other heads divine; By work or word, with voice or sword, To follow them be mine. The breast that zeal and hatred steel No terrors can subdue; If death should come, that martyrdom Were sweet, endured for you, Dear land— Were sweet, endured for you.