THE VOICE OF THE NATION.
I.
How bright will the day be—how radiant and blest
The dawning of Freedom and Peace in the west,
When the chain that foul treason around us had cast
Will be shattered and flung to the spoiler at last.
II.
When that trumpet-toned voice will go forth, as before,
Till its echo resounds on earth's uttermost shore—
"No laws under Heaven will the Irishman own,
But the home hallowed laws of his country alone."
III.
Then our national emblems aloft shall be seen,
The shamrock and harp on a banner of green;
And when free to the breezes that banner shall fly,
The wide world to enslave it again we defy!
IV.
The shameful distinction of class and of creed
Will be trampled to dust like a poisonous weed;
And the sweet flower of concord shall rise in its room,
Breathing Union and peace over bigotry's tomb.
V.
The peasant no more shall be driven from the soil,
Nor robbed like a slave of the fruit of his toil;
But the right to his cot and his acres shall be,
As the lord's to his manor-hall, sacred and free!
VI.
The loom and the workshop, now silent so long,
Will echo again with glad industry's song;
And comfort and smiling contentment be there,
Where our artisans languish in want and despair.
