41. Oh! they were good-those sons of Innisfail! But, oft o'er summer seas sweeps the loud gale; And sudden o'er the calm of Fola pass'd

Dissension, that first fault, which haunts her to the last!

42. Conn of the battles and great Eugene More

The Isle partitioned, straight, from shore to shore;
And now a feud
her tribes arose,

among

The fruitful source of many hopeless woes.

43. Yet, tho' she knew no ray of Gospel Light,
And Eirie bent the knee to druid rite,
Still was she moral, valorous, and true
And bounteous as the gently falling dew.

44. To Jove her sons a homage offer'd free,
As king of Heav'n and Hell, of Earth and Sea;
Some bow'd to Pluto, some fear'd Neptune's nod
In these three names they worshipped man as God.

45. And some adored the sun, and some the moon,

And some the stars, that gladden night's pale noon;
Mars, too, had votaries, and rash Cupid fam'd,
And sage Apollo, God of Wisdom nam'd.

46. To black-lipp'd Vulcan, blacksmiths rendered vows;
Shepherds to Pan, on misty mountain brows;
But some preferr❜d to Nymphs of air or sea,
The Sibyl Prophetess of Carrig Leigh.

47. Ah! soon such deities shall wing their flight,
And Gentile darkness yield to Gospel Light!
From Rome-Heav'n sent! a missioner hath sped
To preach a Man-God slain and risen from the dead.

48. Patrick, empower'd by Celestine the PopePrelates, without the Pontiff's grace, but grope! To Erin came, what time Ulidia fair

Mark Milcho served, and Tara crowned Loghaire.

49. He preached the Cross-and, lo! the blest result! Quick he baptized each infant and adult;

Struck demons dumb, effac'd sin's mortal taints,
And made green Erin's Isle an Isle of Saints.

50. Long had the Monarch stood from Faith aloof-
His proud heart asks a miracle for proof-
"Druid and Christian in yon fire be thrown!
He who escapes unscathed, his God I own!"

51. So spake the king. A druid and a priest,
Exchanging clothes, stepp'd in to dare the test.
The screaming druid straight to ashes burns;
But the good priest of Christ unharm'd returns.
52. Holy the bishops were, and past all praise,

Who taught in Desmond ere St. Patrick's days;
Declan of Decies, Ailbé, Emly's star,

Kieran the wise, and eloquent Ivar.

53. But who with Calphurn's son can cope in grace, With whom the Lord held converse face to face, Gave him a book and crozier, promising

Patrick shall judge the Gael when the last trump
shall ring!

54. And Jesu gave him power each Sabbath eve,
Four souls of that fair nation to relieve
From purgatorial flames. The blest Ivar
Affirms the number freed is greater far.

55. And Jesu promis'd him the seventh last year Before the conflagration of our sphere,

Should see a flood o'er Erin's mountains flow

To save her rescued race from Antichrist and woe.

56. Great was our saint! The very song he wrote
With blessings to the sons of men is fraught.
Who has not heard of "PATRICK'S HYMN?" I sung
Its verses from my mother's lips, when I was young!

57. Oh! learn ye sons of Eirie! that sweet strain;
At death 'twill save from purgatorial pain;
Nay! but the last three stanzas, as you die,
Will shield and soothe you in your agony.

58. Three-score the years he taught. Alas! too few
For zeal for ever burning fresh and new!
Three hundred were the bishops whom he left
To mourn a flock of such a primate reft.

59. Three thousand priests his holy hand ordained;
He spread six hundred churches o'er the land,
Where many a deacon, many a canon pray'd,
And virgins took the veil in chastity array'd.

60. What wonder that a people thus thrice bless'd, Should spurn this world and pant for heav'nly rest? Oh, yes! God's fear and love her heart enflam'd, And Erin Isle of Saints was justly nam'd!

61. And such for ages was her bearing, till

The squadrons of the North her havens fill,
And Danes deal havoc o'er the sainted Isle,
Importing evil manners, which defile.

62. But, Brian of the Tributes rose in time,
And stay'd the Gentiles' fierce career of crime.
'Twas on Good Friday noon, in one pitch'd fight,
Falling himself, he conquer'd Erin's right.

63. Scarce on Clontarf the blood of foes was dry,
When sons of friends were stung with jealousy;
Each with each other warr'd; and, worse than Danes!
E'en Irish shed the life of Irish veins.

64. Dismantled towers appear'd on every

side;

Morals were changed-man took his brother's bride;
Mac Murrogh seiz'd the princess of O'Rorke—
Then Banba's monarch rag'd, then follow'd ruin's
work!

65. Hate in his heart and vengeance in his head,

From Ferns to England's throne fierce Dermod fled;
Against his country arms and aid he claim'd,
That country's right the rich reward he nam'd.

66. And, Henry smil'd!-he smil'd with cunning hope!
His fair pretext-a brave Bull from the Pope-
"Faith to restore!" Alas, he brought a curse.
"And Peter's pence to pay"-into his purse.

67. Back with the traitor churl Earl Strongbow sail'd, Men in his train in finish'd armour mail'd

Why waste my breath? The story soon is told-
Dissension did the deed-Eirie was sold.

68. But, they grew kind, those sons of Saxon sires,
And mildly mingled round our social fires,
Mixing their blood with ours in marriage rite,
Loving the clergy well-our hearts' delight!

69. They reverenc'd the laws our Brehons plann'd, Nor crush'd the foe that fear'd their strong command; So Celt and Saxon soon were brothers all

In love; and Gall was Gael and Gael was Gall.

70. At length-the Law, the Faith they flung o'erboard, When carnal Calvin, lecherous Luther roar'd,

"Down with the Church! free Passion from duress "Raise high the floodgates of Licentiousness!"

71. That cry reverberates round England's throne,
Where rules a despot's iron will alone;
Henry, Elizabeth, and Scottish James
Echo the cry, and set a realm in flames.

72. The tale is quickly told. Black sin corrodes
The Saxon people and their Irish toads.

They follow'd wheresoe'er their sovereigns led,
And made a king or queen the clergy's head!

73. They stripp'd the Church of all the poor's estate,
And gave its acres to the guilty great.

They dressed the Latin Mass in English guise-
Oh, what a Mass-without a sacrifice!

74. Rapine and lust and perjury had sway,

Scarce one went out to keep the Sabbath day;
And, on a sunny Sunday-men assert—

A woman and her son would stay at home to flirt.

75. And there was feasting high-my soul it grieves
E'en on Good Friday and Apostles' Eves.

Who then eat cresses at the gushing well?
None, save the hermit creeping from his cell.