JACOBITE RELICS.
31
Truth beams upon the crest of Cashell's son;
Hosts gird him round; our own, our righteous one;
Banba's warm heart with him no despot shares,
The slumbering blade, lo! tardy justice bares;
Down with the spoiler! till no English tread
May pause in anguish o'er the countless dead.
From every shrine redeemed, in choral swell
God's chosen priests his mighty works shall tell;
Our pastors, meek, and continent, and true—
And they shall register the deeds you do
To be a beacon light to other days—
Then crown the goblet—and exulting raise
The festive measure—let no abject sense
Depress your spirits; heaven is your defence;
Even now the impress of the eternal seal
Is on your freedom's fiat—fare thee well.
