Thou art still to me _mavourneen_, so _an slainte leat gu bragh._




WRITTEN FOR THE O'CONNEL CENTENARY.


Sons of the bright, green island,
Gathered by the pine-fringed lake,
In honour of his memory,
Who battled for your sake,
Listen, we too pay our tribute
To a fame that well endures;
He, who ventured much for liberty,
Is ours as well as yours.

Men fought in vain for freedom,
And lay down in felon graves;
"Your noblest then were exiles,
Your proudest then were slaves"
When the people, blind and furious,
Maddened by oppression's scorn,
Struggled, seethed in wild upheaval,
Was the Liberator born.

Who took the sword fell by the sword,
This man was born to show,
How thoughts would win where steel had failed
One hundred years ago