JACOBITE RELICS.
105
Victims of every changing fate,
These shadows of the Gael of yore,
Whose bonds with worse corrosion eat,
Through breasts that panted free before.
Their power is feebleness—their worth,
Their manly worth, a rankling stain;
Once heroes! now, disastrous dearth.
Their hearts have shriveled to the chain.
Dark shadows round the Gael arise,
Veiling the light of other days;
Like clouds that gathering in the skies.
Obscure the sun's meridian blaze.
The word went forth2—from Boyne to Lein
Echoed the impious sounds away;
But Fians yet in Fail disdain
To bend or brook an alien sway.
The scions of a race of kings
No more the glittering barb may grace;
Bid the swift hawk unfurl his wings,
Or wake the mountain with the chase.
