Classic Poem

E RIN , lift thy bending head,
Rise majestic by the sea;
Say, in soul-compelling voice:
Sons, who fain would have me free,
Have a care, lest when ye rend
From my limbs the biting chain,
Ye, my sons, around my brow
Bind the fiery crown of shame!

Sons, for ages I have sat
Sackcloth-girded on the ground,
Glory-widowed, captive queen,
Shackled, dethroned and discrowned;
Mute my harp, ingloriously
Dumb its old heroic strains;
But its loosened strings wailed low,
Vibrant to my clanking chains.

At my knee my starvelings lay,
Jewels crowned my captive head —
Hearken, God, I might not sell
One to buy my children bread!
Beauty, fresh, immortal, dwelt
On my bent and hapless brow;
Conquered but unshamed I sat —
Sons, why would ye shame me now?

Children of my troubled breast,
When, as Glory's spouse, on high
Throned with him, I sat and saw
Golden days pass grandly by,
In my kings', my warriors' souls
Valour lit his purest flame, —
Would ye, O my sons, replace
Such a light with blackest shame?

Would ye, valiant sons of mine,
Play the traitor's loathly part?
Bow my proud head in the dust?
Sell my honour in the mart?
If ye may not break my chains,
Fearless-fronted, true and brave,
Spotless as thy sires were,
Then let Erin live a slave!

Could I mount my throne again,
Sun-like placed in freedom's air,
Hearkening as the nations say:
" Midnight murders placed her there " ?
Could my sunburst proudly float
Glorious o'er my ancient land,
Were its mighty folds let loose
By the dark assassin's hand?

How could Glory's star arise,
Set its pure light on my head,
In the lurid glare of flames
By the secret torches spread?
O my sons, take heed and see,
If ye break my chafing chain,
That ye bind not round my brow
Fiery crown of lasting shame!