JACOBITE RELICS.
23
Though our sorrows avail not—our hope is not lost—
For the Father is mighty!—the Highest remains!—
The loosed waters rushed down upon Pharoah's wide
host—
But the billows crouch back from the foot He sustains—
Just power! that for Moses the wave didst divide,
Look down on the land where thy followers pine;
Look down upon Erin! and crush the dark pride
Of the scourge of thy people—the foes of thy shrine.
