ROBERT EMMET.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIII, Issue 15, 31 July 1885, Page 7

ROBERT EMMET.

(By Patbiok Sahsfield Oassidy, i

In tne darkness of defeat, In the midnight of desDair, Ireland staggers to her feet, Gasps for freedom light and air. Who will burst her dungeon's door ? Brutal tyrants hold the key. Who will lift her from the floor? Who will set the captive free, Saviour be of land so fair, Emmet answers " I will dare." Conquest's flag beclouds her gate, Streaked with blood and black with gloom. tfnouls expectant grimly wait To howl around a nation's tomb Patriots ! who will lead the way ? Noblest mission 'neath the skies Rout the spectre, roll the stone away And let the nation rise Power most God-like given to man. Freedom answers Emmet can. Glorious Emmet ! from thy soul mu T l! c ,. GG u d of J ustice strikes th « spark That lights a nation to the goal . • Of freedom through Egyptian dark ; v^v }? rave arm ' tfaott S h yo»ng» the power To lift a prostrate natiou up, Bevive her ia extremesb hour, Holdto her lips the strengthening cap. Vice regent of the God of Right, Let thy young arm the despot smite. The beauty of thy youthful face, The quenchless courage of thine eyes, Are but the faint reflected grace Of soul anointed from the skies, Surcharged with bright celestial fire, To give a dying nation life To concentrate the grand desire, To never cease the glorious strife Till tyrants shrink from Freedom's sun, And the martyr's mission's won. Tis lost 1 but only for a time j Tis but an armistice in the strife. For, Emmet, see thy soul sublime Electrifies thy land to life J The sacrificial life was thine, By heaven on special mission sent. To teach that Freedom is divine And thog has its accomplishment. Thy light went out in gibbet's gloom, But did a nation's heart illume. Thy monument ten million hearts, All warm and pulsing like thine own, lo dolts and despots leave the arts, Of marble — cold, insensate stone. And branded is thy epitaph Across thy country's mind and soul : The sun illuminates but half, Thy fame surrounds the whole, And in our roll of martyrs prized, Emmet, thou the canonized, Emmet, let the minstrel's song Whine no sad refrain for thee ! Like thy courage, be it strong ; Like thy fearless spirit, free, Strong to lift a drooping land, Thrill her with Promethean fire. Scorn-— toy scorn would blast the hand That dared to scrape a dismal lyre. No weak regretß for soul like thine = Shall e'er be moaned by muse of mine. England's flag is Ireland's pall. Brothers ! from the bending skies Emmet watches for its fall, In its place the harp to rise. Patriots I give his Bpirit joy. Swear we ou his natal day Feude, dissensions, to destroy Shade of Emmet, lead the way ! Here we swear to God and thee Ireland, Emmet, shall be free ! ' — Neiv York Democrat, 1882.