Who fears to claim the Irish name? Who will forswear his blood? Who holds in shame the deeds and fame Of Emmet, Grattan, Flood? Their hearts held true through death and rue, Through death and sore disgrace, Then who’ll forget the boundless debt We owe our Irish race? Ere Learning’s sun had found the road Above the Eastern hill, Her lamp of art and wisdom glowed By Irish lake and rill; To Scotia’s crags it flashed a ray, And Albion spoke reply; From tower and shrine it beamed benign, A beacon in the sky! Where’er the rights of man were pressed Beneath the heel of wrong— Where’er, from utmost East to West, The helpless sought the strong— There—there the son of Erin found His soul’s appointed place— When Freedom calls, oh, what appals The dauntless Irish race. Within the mighty woods of Maine You hear their cheery word; Upon the boundless Texan plain They drive their thundering herd; They smite the veins of golden ore, They gird the earth with plans— But first and most (their proudest boast), _They’re true Americans!_ Then, who would shame the Irish name By one ignoble deed? He—he alone we will not own Who would belie his seed! We claim our line—your blood and mine— From out a sacred sod. Then, hand in hand, we’ll take our stand— _True to ourselves and God!_ THE WORK OF THE SOCIETY. BY THOMAS J. GARGAN, BOSTON, MASS. The new president-general of the Society, Thomas J. Gargan, said: GENTLEMEN:-We may congratulate ourselves on the progress which this Society has made during the two years of its existence. On Jan. 20, 1897, in response to a call, signed by thirty gentlemen from several of the states of our republic, forty or more gentlemen assembled at Boston and organized the Society.