iv
DEDICATION.
III.New energies, from higher source, Must make the strong life-currents flow,As Alpine glaciers in their course Stir the deep torrents 'neath the snow.The woman's voice dies in the strife.Of Liberty's awakening life;We wait the hero heart to lead,The hero, who can guide at need,And strike with bolder, stronger band,Though towering hosts his path withstand Thy golden harp, Loved Ireland!
IV.For I can breathe no trumpet call. To make the slumb'ring Soul arise;I only lift the funeral-pall, That so God's light might touch thine eyes,And ring the silver prayer-bell clear,To rouse thee from thy trance of fear;Yet, if thy mighty heart has stirred,Even with one pulse-throb at my word,Then not in vain my woman's handHas struck thy gold harp while I stand, Waiting thy rise Loved Ireland!
