III.
Oh, God's earth is fair! and a glimpse you may catch,
As you peer o'er the wall of some neighbouring park,
Of lawn, grove, and paddock—but lift not a latch,
Or be torn by the dogs at your footsteps that bark!
Sweet valley and glade, beauteous lake, stream, and river,
Bestud ev'ry turn in our evergreen isle;
Ye have heard they are lovely, but glanced at them never,
Save yoked like scorned beasts to unrecompensed toil!
IV.
Crawl on, ye vile slaves! not a sod is your own,
Of the soil where your fathers coursed free as the airs;
Not a bird dare ye shoot, where their footsteps have flown;
Not a fish dare you draw from the streams that were theirs!
With your sweat your land-tyrants their 'scutcheons adorn,
And would coin your heart's blood, as your hearts they have riven!
You have asked for free bread—they refuse it with scorn;
If you starve at their will, you deserve it, by Heaven!
THE LAMENT OF GRAINNE ṀAOL.[1]
I.
John Bull was a bodach, as rich as a Jew—
As griping, as grinding, and conscienceless too;
A wheedler, a shuffler, a rogue by wholesale,
And a swindler moreover, says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
II.
John Bull was a banker, pursy and fat,
With gold in both pockets, and plenty of that;
And he tempted his neighbours to sell their entail—
'Tis by scheming he prospers, says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
- ↑ Vulgarly written and rightly pronounced Granu Wail.
