Young salmon of the flood-time of freedom That swells round Erin's shore! Thou wilt leap against their loud oppressive torrent Of bigotry and hate no more: Drawn downward by their prone material instinct, Let them thunder on their rocks and foam-- Thou hast leapt, aspiring soul, to founts beyond their raging, Where troubled waters never come! But I grieve not, eagle of the empty eyrie, That thy wrathful cry is still; And that the songs alone of peaceful mourners Are heard to-day on Erin's hill; Better far, if brothers' war be destined for us (God avert that horrid day I pray!) That ere our hands be stained with slaughter fratricidal Thy warm heart should be cold in clay. But my trust is strong in God, who made us brothers, That He will not suffer those right hands Which thou hast joined in holier rites than wedlock, To draw opposing brands. O, many a tuneful tongue that thou madest vocal Would lie cold and silent then; And songless long once more, should often-widowed Erin Mourn the loss of her brave young men. O, brave young men, my love, my pride, my promise, 'Tis on you my hopes are set, In manliness, in kindliness, in justice, To make Erin a nation yet: Self-respecting, self-relying, self-advancing, In union or in severance, free and strong-- And if God grant this, then, under God, to Thomas Davis Let the greater praise belong. _Sir Samuel Ferguson_ THE COUNTY OF MAYO _From the Irish of Thomas Lavelle_ On the deck of Patrick Lynch's boat I sat in woful plight, Through my sighing all the weary day, and weeping all the night; Were it not that full of sorrow from my people forth I go, By the blessed sun! 'tis royally I'd sing thy praise, Mayo! When I dwelt at home in plenty, and my gold did much abound, In the company of fair young maids the Spanish ale went round-- 'Tis a bitter change from those gay days that now I'm forced to go, And must leave my bones in Santa Cruz, far from my own Mayo. They are altered girls in Irrul now; 'tis proud they're grown and high, With their hair-bags and their top-knots, for I pass their buckles by-- But it's little now I heed their airs, for God will have it so, That I must depart for foreign lands, and leave my sweet Mayo. 'Tis my grief that Patrick Loughlin is not Earl of Irrul still, And that Brian Duff no longer rules as Lord upon the hill: And that Colonel Hugh MacGrady should be lying dead and low, And I sailing, sailing swiftly from the county of Mayo. _George Fox_ THE WEDDING OF THE CLANS _A Girl's Babble_