A REBUKE.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XI, Issue 32, 7 December 1883, Page 9

A REBUKE.

[The Dublin Nation prints the following poem by Dr. Plunket, the Protestant Bishop of Meath. The design of the. poem, says the JFmtum, is to rebuke the miserable flunkeys, who, tnoogh born and wed in Ireland, affect to despise everything Irish, and strive to pass themselves off as English in all but the accident of birth, which they desire should be regarded as their misfortune and not their fault. We hare, unhappily, far too many of such mean-souled creatures amongst us; they are not all of one religious creed ; Protestants, no •oubt, form the numerical majority, but the Catholic slaves are the ■tost i odious of the lot. Upon all of them Lord Plankefs patriotic " Rebuke should fall with great force.] Yb sons of Erin I who despise The motherland that)bare you, Who nothing Iri-h love or prise, Give ear, I will not spare yon ! The stranger's jeer I do not fear, But can I pardon ever Those who revile their native Isle ? Oh I never, never, never I That persons so refined and grand As you are, should belong to This very low and vulgar land Is sad, and very wrong too I But 'tis too late to mend your fate, Irish you are for ever — You'll wipe that shame from off your name, Oh ! never, never, never ! Well then, what do you hope to win In spite of all your labours, By meanly cutting kith and kin And courting prouder neighbours 1 Ab, no ! dear sirs, he sadly errs Who tries to be too clever, Mark what I say, it will not pay — Oh 1 never, never, never I From Irish soil you love to roam, But let me just remind you, You'll nowhere find a happier home That what you leave behind you ! The world explore from shore to shore, 'Twill be a vain endeavour, On scenes so bright you'll never light, Ah 1 never, never, never 1 Go point me out on any map A match for green Kilkurney, Or Kevin's bed, or Dnnlo's gap, Or mys'ic shades of Blarney, Or Antrim's caves, or Shannon's waves, Ah, me I I doubt if ever An Isle so fair was seen elsewhere — Oh ! nevtr, never, never 1 Where will you meet with lads more true : And wheie with truer lasses? Those genial hearts, those eyes of blue, Pray tell me what surpasses 1 You may not grieve such joys to leave Or care such ties to 6ever, But friends more kind you'll never find, Oh I never, never, never 1 And now, my friends, go if you will And visit other nations, But leave your hearts in Erin still Among your poor relations ; The spot of earth that gave you birth Kesolve to love for ever, And you'll repent that good intent Oh ! never, never, never 1