THE PRIESTS OF IRELAND.
121
Well they judged their time—they waited till the bar was glowing white,
Then they swung it on the anvil, striking down with earnest might.
And the burning sparks that scatter lose no lustre on their way
Till five million hearts in Ireland and ten millions far away
Feel the first good blow, and answer; and they will not rest with one:
Now the first is struck, the anvil shows the labor well begun;
Swing them in with lusty sinew and the work will soon be done!
Let them sound from hoary Cashel ; Kerry, Meath, and Ross stand forth;
Let them ring from Cloyne and Tuam and the Primate of the North;
Ask not class or creed: let "Ireland!" be the talismanic word;
Let the blessed sound of unity from North to South be heard;
