THE APPEAL.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XVII, Issue 3, 10 May 1889, Page 7

THE APPEAL.

Gakeyowen

Weary and upirit'sore, Bleeding from every pore, Wrong casting more and more Wrecks on her way ; Hndderlesa, pilotless, shiftless, in sore diitress, Ireland lies helplessly prostrate to-day.

Struggling for life and air, Foot-9ore and b( som-bare. Mourning her hoped ho frr, Faded and gone ; Painfully, wearily, hard Ret and drearily, Grasping at shadows that ever flit on.

Who shall assuage her pain ? Who shall bid freedom reign ? Who bring back peacb again Home to our isle ? True souls shall meet him, and strong hearts shall greet him, Reflecting the sunrise ot liberty's smile.

Who will our purpose aid ? Where shall our choice be made ? Where the men not afraid Erin to free ? Deceived and deceiving, betrayed when believing. The bitter fruit-bearing of long slavery.

Prophets and saints of old, Sires of our fathers bold Rise from your graves so cold, Wakea the few — The faithful and true men, a host tho' a few men, Who'll shield from danger, and teach us to do.

Ah, they will defend us, And rise to befriend us, Whom kind Heaven fends us, They never forget How we kissed the grim halter, for love of the Altar, And sealed with our life-blood tue bond of their debt.

Down in the forest glen, Hiding in savage den, Fighting the Saxon mcD, Years of the past ; Smiling in sorrow's face, writhing in daik disgrace, Yielding c'en life itself, line to the las'.

Oft on <ue scaffold high Rang Erin's dearest cry, Up to the listening sky, " Sogtjarth Anton ;" The hell-hounds wiio whipped us, stood awe-struck amMst u<?. 'I hat they ere carao between us, ob, Erin ma rronr I Brave were the hearts that bled, Bitter the tea's they shei, Never from danger fled, Never from shame ; And they stinted no- measure, of blood or of treasure, To shelter their Soygarth, and halo his name.

Fiifs s of our liish land, Biabopp, whom Heaven'B band PI iced in your high command, Pause well today ; Tiuin and vice are life, save us from bitter strife. Wolves gathtr round us, to trample and slay. Al»e, fur the poitoa weeds Scatter their noxious seeds, Gladly the serpent feeds, Th' ughts such as freeze The old feelings that bound us, and treacherously round us, Spread doubts of that old love, that grew at your knees. Ere the daik storm gathers, U God of our fathers, Awaken Ihe seeping, g ye strength to the brave, And let lieland's dark story Grow bright in the glory Of the priesthood who raised her from slavery's grave. Grey Valley, Apiil 18, 18SG