Page:The Spirit of the Nation.djvu/131

Rh Oh! soon upon the step and glance

Grief does the work of age;

And it has been her hapless chance

To open that dark page.

The happy harvest home was o'er,

The fierce tithe-gatherer came;

And her young lover, in his gore,

Fell by a murderous aim!

Then, well may youth's bright glance be gone

For ever from that eye,

And soon will sisters weep upon

The grave that she kneels by;

And well may prouder hearts than those,

That there place garlands, say—

"Have Ireland's peasant girls such woes?—

When will they pass away?"

Steady! Host of Freeedom [sic], steady!

Ponder, gather, watch, mature;

Tranquil be, though ever ready—

Prompt to act—and to endure.

Aimless, rage you not, insanely,

Like a maniac with his chain,

Struggling madly, therefore vainly,

And lapsing back to bonds again.

But, observe, the clouds o'er Keeper

Long collect their awful ire—

Long they swell more dark and deeper;

When they burst, all heaven's on fire.