Once more the seraph stood before the throne Of dread Omnipotence, pensive and alone. "What hast thou done?" Heaven's Monarch sadly sigh'd. "I dropped the jewel in the flashing tide," The seraph said; but saw with vision keen A mightier angel stalk upon the scene, Whose voice like grating thunder smote his ear And taught his soul the mystery of fear. "Because thy heart with impious pride did swell, And dared make better what thy God made well; Because thy hand did fling profanely down On Earth a jewel wrenched from Heaven's bright crown, The Isle which thine own fingers did create Shall reap a blessing and a curse from fate!" THE CURSE. Far in the future, as the years roll on, And all the pagan ages shall have flown; When Christian virtues, flaming into light, Shall save the world from superstition's night; Erin, oppress'd, shall bite the tyrant's heel, And for a thousand years enslaved shall kneel; Her sons shall perish in the field and flood, Her daughters starve in city, wold, and wood; Her patriots, with their blood, the block shall stain, Her matrons fly behind the Western main; Harpies from Albion shall her strength consume, And thorns and thistles in her gardens bloom. But, curse of curses thine, O! fated land: Traitors shall thrive where statesmen ought to stand! THE BLESSING. But past her heritage of woe and pain, A far more blest millennium shall reign; Seedlings of heroes shall her exiles be, Where'er they find a home beyond the sea; Bright paragons of beauty and of truth, Her maidens all shall dazzle in their youth; And when age comes, to dim the flashing eye, Still gems of virtue shall they live, and die! No braver race shall breathe beneath the sun Than thine, O! Erin, ere the goal be won. Wherever man shall battle for the right, There shall thy sons fall thickest in the fight; Wherever man shall perish to be free, There shall thy martyrs foremost be! And O! when thy redemption is at hand, Soldiers shall swell thy ranks from every land! Heroes shall flock in thousands to thy shore, And swear thy soil is FREE FOREVERMORE! Then shall thy harp be from the willow torn, And in yon glitt'ring galaxy be borne! Then shall the Emerald change its verdant crest, And blaze a Star co-equal with the rest! The sentence pass'd, the doomsman felt surprise, For tears were streaming from the seraph's eyes. "Weep not for Erin," once again he spoke, "But for thyself, that did'st her doom provoke; I bear a message, seraph, unto thee, As unrelenting in its stern decree. For endless years it is thy fate to stand, The chosen guardian of the SHAMROCK land. Three times, as ages wind their coils away, Incarnate on yon Island shalt thou stray.