Thomas Davis, Selections from his Prose and Poetry Part 40

The church of Dungannon is empty once more-- No plumes on the altar, no clash on the floor, But the councils of England are fluttered to see, In the cause of their country, the Irish agree; So they give as a boon what they dare not withhold, And Ireland, a nation, leaps up as of old, With a name, and a trade, and a flag of her own, And an army to fight for the people and throne.

But woe worth the day if to falsehood or fears She surrenders the guns of her brave Volunteers!

TONE'S GRAVE.

I.

In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave, And wildly along it the winter winds rave; Small shelter, I ween, are the ruined walls there, When the storm sweeps down on the plains of Kildare.

II.

Once I lay on that sod--it lies over Wolfe Tone-- And thought how he perished in prison alone, His friends unavenged, and his country unfreed-- "Oh, bitter," I said, "is the patriot's meed;

III.

"For in him the heart of a woman combined With a heroic life and a governing mind-- A martyr for Ireland--his grave has no stone-- His name seldom named, and his virtues unknown."

IV.

I was woke from my dream by the voices and tread Of a band, who came into the home of the dead; They carried no corpse, and they carried no stone, And they stopped when they came to the grave of Wolfe Tone.

V.

There were students and peasants, the wise and the brave, And an old man who knew him from cradle to grave, And children who thought me hard-hearted; for they On that sanctified sod were forbidden to play.

VI.

But the old man, who saw I was mourning there, said: "We come, sir, to weep where young Wolfe Tone is laid, And we're going to raise him a monument, too-- A plain one, yet fit for the simple and true."

VII.

My heart overflowed, and I clasped his old hand, And I blessed him, and blessed every one of his band: "Sweet! sweet! 'tis to find that such faith can remain To the cause, and the man so long vanquished and slain."

VIII.

In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave, And freely around it let winter winds rave-- Far better they suit him--the ruin and gloom-- TILL IRELAND, A NATION, CAN BUILD HIM A TOMB.

NATIONALITY.

I.

A Nation's voice, a nation's voice-- It is a solemn thing!

It bids the bondage-sick rejoice-- 'Tis stronger than a king.

'Tis like the light of many stars, The sound of many waves, Which brightly look through prison bars, And sweetly sound in caves.

Yet is it n.o.blest, G.o.dliest known, When righteous triumph swells its tone.

II.

A nation's flag, a nation's flag-- If wickedly unrolled, May foes in adverse battle drag Its every fold from fold.

But in the cause of Liberty, Guard it 'gainst Earth and h.e.l.l; Guard it till Death or Victory-- Look you, you guard it well!

No saint or king has tomb so proud As he whose flag becomes his shroud.

III.

A nation's right, a nation's right-- G.o.d gave it, and gave, too, A nation's sword, a nation's might, Danger to guard it through.

'Tis freedom from a foreign yoke, 'Tis just and equal laws, Which deal unto the humblest folk, As in a n.o.ble's cause.

On nations fixed in right and truth, G.o.d would bestow eternal youth.

IV.

May Ireland's voice be ever heard Amid the world's applause!

And never be her flag-staff stirred, But in an honest cause!

May Freedom be her very breath, Be Justice ever dear; And never an enn.o.bled death May son of Ireland fear!

So the Lord G.o.d will ever smile, With guardian grace, upon our isle.

SELF-RELIANCE.

I.

Though savage force and subtle schemes, And alien rule, through ages lasting, Have swept your land like lava streams, Its wealth and name and nature blasting; Rot not, therefore, in dull despair, Nor moan at destiny in far lands!

Face not your foe with bosom bare, Nor hide your chains in pleasure's garlands.

The wise man arms to combat wrong, The brave man clears a den of lions, The true man spurns the Helot's song; The freeman's friend is Self-Reliance!

II.

Though France that gave your exiles bread, Your priests a home, your hopes a station, Or that young land where first was spread The starry flag of Liberation,-- Should heed your wrongs some future day, And send you voice or sword to plead 'em, With helpful love their help repay, But trust not even to them for Freedom.