Irish Minstrelsy/Volume 2/Part 3/The Expected of Ireland
THE EXPECTED OF IRELAND.
BY HENRY GRATTAN CURRAN.
I turn to the hills, with the dawn as I waken,
And sickens my soul o'er its promise deferred;
The wave with no hearts exultation is shaken.
No cannon's deep voice o'er Ben-Edar1 is heard.
Oh speed to sustain us! oh leave not the crown
Of green Erin the brow of her tyrant to press!
On her names of renown,
Her invaders look down.
And the Gael's aching heart sinks with shame and distress.
The hope of your coming o'er Erin has brightened,
In wakefulness present—in vision displayed—
Until in your promise her shackles seem lightened,
And rent from her bosom the shroud that arrayed.
Oh gleam but your swords on the goats to advance!
Bid our Charles in the front his position to take,
And at liberty's glance,
A wide host from their trance,
Over bright Sliev-na-mon and Knock-Greny will wake.2
Oh fly to our shores, and should weapons be wanted,
Our hands in the blood of the despot we'll dye;
They'll come from Kildare, and from Dingle undaunted.
For Conaught with Ulster in Glory will vie:
Every spot of the land burning spirits will send.
And oh, when regenerate they leap from the chain,
What shield may defend
Those who taught them to bend.
When with Una her Donald's united again.3
The clan of O'Neill with the sword redly gleaming,4
Will come with Mac Carthy the prince of the Gael—
And O'Sullivan's banner from Bear-haven streaming—
Mac Mahon our strong one, that never could fail—
On Mac Morogh of Leinster the scourge shall be laid;
Blarney's lord his disgrace with Mac Awliffe will share—
When her ranks are arrayed.
With the pole and the blade,
Then shall Sabia5 rejoice and her tyrants despair.
The magical pillar where Garret lies sleeping,6
Shall thrill to the war-cry—his spirit shall come;
The day spring whose radiance illumines our weeping.
Will glare like a sun stroke on them to consume;
In their darkness of soul they shall turn from the ray
That arises, their dream of despondence to break,
When the pageant display.
And the banquet decay,
Oh swift be the bolt Erin's vengeance to wreak!