Classic Poem

S ARSFIELD went out the Dutch to rout,
— And to take and break their cannon;
To Mass went he at half-past three,
— And at four he crossed the Shannon.

Tirconnel slept. In dream his thoughts
— Old fields of victory ran on;
And the chieftains of Thomond in Limerick's towers
— Slept well by the banks of Shannon.

He rode ten miles and he crossed the ford,
— And couched in the wood and waited;
Till, left and right, on marched in sight
— That host which the true men hated.

" Charge! " Sarsfield cried; and the green hill-side
— As they charged replied in thunder;
They rode o'er the plain and they rode o'er the slain
— And the rebel rout lay under.

The spark flashed out — like a sailor's shout
— The sound into heaven ascended;
The hosts of the sky made to earth reply,
— And the thunders twain were blended!

Sarsfield went out the Dutch to rout,
— And to take and break their cannon; —
A century after, Sarsfield's laughter
— Was echoed from Dungannon.