AN GAODHAL.
511
TO A PATRIOT IN PRISON.
The eagle caged will pine to feel
The freshness of the hills once more,
To strike beneath his kingly heel
The small birds, as in days of yore
Will miss the swoop, and strength and cry,
That held no truce with meaner game,
Because they would not soar so high,
Because their race was all too tame.
And so the true man caged will pine
To see the brutes hold beastly sway,
To see "the pearls before the swine"
And no man say the swineherd, nay;
And no man say, ye beasts away,
God's bravest gifts are large and free,
But large or small, take heed I pray
They ne'er were meant for such as ye.
Go, take the husks, you've feasted long
On better fare, and feasted well.
But Right, be sure, will master Wrong,
For heaven is master yet of hell,
You've battened long on martyrs' bones,
You thought you had it all your way,
But we have still their witness stones,
Their witness tongues we have for aye
And, Patriot thou art caged to-day,
And all thy loss will Ireland feel,
For who will keep the brutes at bay,
And who their broods beneath his heel?
Yet ever in the East there glows,
Despite of sin, the Warning Sun,
And thou wilt flash upon thy foes
Thy warning for the deed they've done.
What means such speech Perhaps? for long
Before the days of shame are run,
We all may see the despot Wrong
In shame before the angry sun :
May hear a nation's free voice song
Shout out its triumph to the stars,
And speed its echoes swift and strong,
In through the blackness of thy bars !
And thou mayst hear, UPAGE, rise
And feel at heart the flush of spring,
And see with long-expectant eyes
The glories thou hast helped to bring,
For oft before when Truth was beat —
'Tis down to-day in central Rome —
God's justice righted the defeat
'Twill Right thee in thy prison home.
For e'er as now, our Island's cause
Has had apostles, come what might
In face of tyrant's lawless laws,
To preach the Truth, defend the Right,
And e'er, as now, they found but grim
And gloomy gains for all their strife:
But Irish lips their names shall hymn,
So long as Ireland's heart has life!
And sure, you know, we never crowned
A hero in our annals brave.
But him around whose heart was bound
The right resolve, to be no slave;
To be no slave, whate'er might come,
To be no knave. whate'er might fall,
To be no speak, when most were dumb,
And leave the Lord to judge it all !
And e'er within the prison walls,
And round about the prison floor
Are shades of them who knew no thralls,
Our noblemen of days of yore ;
The souls of our immortatal Three,
Of brave Fitzgerald, Emmet, Tone,
And, Patriot, in such company
Thou'lt find thyself not all alone.
And far without thy wicked walls
A nation's heart-bects throb apace,
Expectant for thy free footfalls,
The latest champion of your race,
Uhe latest champion, yet not least
Of those who dare the fierce old fight
At odds against the toothless beast,
And prayed to God, defend the Right!
So, brave heart hold the long held hope,
And you and I will live to see
Your longings find their fullest scope
So long as Ireland's self shall be
From inland moor to loud voiccd sea
Where shall be neither smart nor sore,
Nor suffering for the Truth shall be
Nor prison-bars for evermore.
From Songs for freedom, by Father McHale.
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