Page:Poems Blake.djvu/73

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OUR RECORD.
65
And when before the cannon's mouth they held the foe at bay,
O never could old Ireland's heart beat prouder than that day!

So when a craven fain would hide the birthmark of his race,
Or slightly speak of Erin's sons before her children's face,
Breathe no weak word of scorn or shame, but crush him where he stands
With Irish worth and Irish fame, as won by Irish hands.