IN THE YEARS OF SARSFIELD
I wish I had fought in the battle of Aughrim
By the black bog on the side of the hill,
Seeing there Ginkel's men fall to disquietude,
Failing with Sarsfield meant living still.
I wish I had flown with the Wild Geese across the sea,
Knelt on red Landen's plain, facing the foe;
Holding the dear head of Sarsfield on my heart,
Knowing from his brave blood heroes would grow.
Ah, had I sailed to far France out of Galway,
There on the deck with spy Maxwell to be,
Bishop or Luttrell never had stayed me
From “tossing the Scotsman right into the sea.”[1]
- ↑ Macaulay's History of England, Ch. XVII
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