Page 275 - Demo

Chapter eight 275 Ireland awoke - Dungannon spoke -
With fear was England shaken.
When Grattan rose, none dared oppose The claim he made for freedom;
They knew our swords, to back his words, Were ready did he need them.
They let us raise, to Grattan’s praise,
A proud and joyous anthem;
And wealth and grace, and length of days, May God in mercy grant him!
Bless Harry Flood, who nobly stood By us through gloomy years;
Bless Charlemont, the brave and good. The Chief of the Volunteers!
The North began, the Northheld on The strife for native land,
Till Ireland rose, and cowed her foes - God bless the Northern land!
And bless the men of patriot pen -
Swift, Molyneaux and Lucas;
Bless sword and gun which “Free Trade” won; Bles God! Who ne’er forsook us!
And long may last the friendship fast
Which binds us all together;
While we agree, our foes shall lee
Like clouds in stormy weather.
Remember still, through good and ill,
How vain were prayers and tears -
How vain were words, till lashed the swords