872
AN GAODHAL.
WILLIAM O'BRIEN.
FEBRUARY 1889.
"Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,
Our hearts, in glad surprise,
To higher levels rise."
— Longfellow.
Lift up your hearts! For here is one, my brothers
Whose very life is wrought
Of noble deeds and noble toil for others,
Of noble word and thought.
Amid the brave heroic band who trample
On wrong, and greed, and crime,
His name stands forth, and shines, "a fair ensam¬
ple."
To all ensuing time.
Out of the darkness of her desolation,
Out of the night and gloom,
Her own true sons have raised their drooping na¬
[tion,
As from a living tomb.
The night is almost spent, the dawn is breaking
Along the murky sky;
And Hope's glad sunshine, in our hearts awaking,
Tells us that the day is nigh.
But in the path of the approaching splendour,
Fiercely the storm-clouds lower,
And on our bravest, on the true and tender,
Bursts their remoreless shower.
Reviled, abused, with brutal insult scouted,
Tracked down with hellish spite,
With empty show of justice mocked and flouted,
He yet defies their might.
What is his crime? What black abomination,
What foul and fearful stain,
Has turned the outraged rulers of our nation
Upon his track again?
Whene'er oppression had grown fat, and thriven
Upon the poor man's gold,
Whene'er the helpless and the weak were driven
Homeless, into the cold.
His hand was raised to smite the cowardly spoiler,
His voice rang high and clear,
Bringing, to many a broken-hearted toiler,
New hope and lofty cheer.
Because he could not brook to see his brothers
Crushed 'neath the tyrant's heel,
Because the wrongs and cruel same of others
His heart was quick to feel —
For this they dragged him to their dreary prison,
And, in the light of day,
For this, unstayed, unchecked, they goad and tor¬
[ture
His gallant life away.
Strong in his righteous cause, his high endeavour
His country's love and faith,
He meets their scorn with deeper scorn, and ever
Smiles in the face of Death.
And must it be? For all our protestations
Must history's record tell,
"Revered, adored, — loved by two sister nations —
Killed in a prison cell?"
It must not be! O great and mighty nation,
Will you endure this shame?
Will you look on, while this abomination
Is acted in your name?
For us, your laws have bound us and impaled us:
With us no freedom lies,
We must stand by, and see our best and dearest
Murdered before our eyes.
For Justice' sake, for Freedom's sake, I call you —
For your own honour's sake,
Let not this awful stain of guilt befall you,
Awake, O friends, awake.
Awake, for in your hands his fate is resting,
Your voice must speak his fate,
And even now, our pleading and protesting
May reach your hearts too late.
Look where he lies upon his bed of anguish,
Fainting, and weak, and worn:
Look where your late loved guest is left to lang¬
[uish,
From your own plaudits torn.
And is it thus they honour noble natures,
These blind and cruel men?
And is it thus they act, in all its features,
Judea's scene again.
This stainless soul, this brave and gentle spirit,
Who gives his life away,
That we a fairer future may inherit,
The crucify to-day.
And are not they, whose brutal deeds have made
them
Their country's deep disgrace
Whose coward zeal outruns the coward's who paid
them,
His kin in faith and race?
And, like his gentle Lord he will not give them
The corn and hate their due,
For, in his direst strait he cries, "Forgive them
They know not what they do!" *
From them the deepest waves of Time can never
Wipe out the guilt and shame;
But Irish hearts forever and forever
Will bless O'BRIEN's name.
HANNAH L. HARVEY.
* "You know I have never joined in denounc¬
ing the police as a body; and I have experienced
many touching proofs of how kindly an Irish
heart can beat under a constable's jacket; but
they are being handled diabolically now, and they
are becoming demoralized in many ways.” —
Words used by Mr. O'Brien a few days ago, quot¬
ed in United Ireland for February 2, 1889.
The above poem is by the sister of Edward Har¬
vey of Waterford, a member of the S. of Friends and
an ardent Nationalist.
MOTHERS! Don't Fail To Procure Mrs.
Winlow's SOOTHING SYRUP For Your Chil¬
dren While Cutting Teeth.
It soothes the child, softens the gum, allays
all pain, cures wind colic, and is the best remedy
for diarrhoea.
TWENTY-FIVE CENTS a BOTTLE.
