Irish War-Song

Bright sun ! before whose glorious ray
Our pagan fathers bent the knee ;
Whose pillar-altars yet can say
When time was young our sires were free ;
Who seest how fallen their offspring be,
Our matrons' tears, our patriots' gore ;
We swear, before high Heaven and thee,
The Saxon holds us slaves no more !

Our sunburst on the Roman foe
Flashed vengeance once in foreign field ;
On Clontarf's plain lay scathed low
What power the sea-kings fierce could wield
Beinn Burb might say whose cloven shield
'Neath bloody hoofs was trampled o'er,
And, by these memories high, we yield
Our limbs to Saxon chains no more !

The dairseach wild, whose trembling string
Had long the " song of sorrow " spoke,
Shall bid the wild Rosg-Cata sing
The curse and crime of Saxon yoke.

And, by each heart his bondage broke-
Each exile's sigh on distant shore —
Each martyr 'neath the headsman's stroke —
The Saxon holds us slaves no more !

" Harp.
Send the loud war-cry o'er the main —
Your sunburst to the breezes spread :
That slogan rends the heaven in twain —
The earth reels back beneath your tread.
Ye Saxon despots, hear, and dread !

Your march o'er patriot hearts is o'er —
That shout hath told, that tramp hath said,
Our country's sons are slaves no more !