Classic Poem

I.

S HOUT it out, till it ring
From Beann-mhor to Cape Cleire,
For our country and king,
And religion so dear.
Rally, men! rally —
Irishmen! rally!
Gather round the dear flag, that, wet with our tears,
And torn, and bloody, lay hid for long years,
And now, once again, in its pride re-appears.
See! from The Castle our green banner waves,
Bearing fit motto for uprising slaves —
For Now OR NEVER !
Now AND FOR EVER !
Bids you to battle for triumph or graves —
Bids you to burst on the Sacsanach knaves —
Rally, then, rally!
Irishmen, rally!
Shout Now OR NEVER !
Now AND FOR EVER !
Heed not their fury, however it raves,
Welcome their horsemen with pikes and with staves,
Close on their cannon, their bay'nets, and glaives,
Down with their standard wherever it waves;
Fight to the last, and ye cannot be slaves!
Fight to the last, and ye cannot be slaves!
II.

Gallant Sheldon is here,
And Hamilton, too,
And Tirchonaill so dear,
And Mac Carrthaigh, so true.
And there are Frenchmen;
Skilful and staunch men —
De Rosen, Pontee, Pusignan, and Boisseleau,
And gallant Lauzun is a coming, you know,
With Balldearg, the kinsman of great Eoghan Ruadh.
From Sionainn to Banna, from Life to Laoi,
The country is rising for Libertie.
Tho' your arms are rude,
If your courage be good,
As the traitor fled will the stranger flee,
At another Drom-mor, from " the Irishry. "
Arm peasant and lord!
Grasp musket and sword!
Grasp pike-staff and skiam!
Give your horses the rein!
March, in the name of his Majesty —
Ulster and Munster unitedly —
Townsman and peasant, like waves of the sea —
Leinster and Connacht to victory —
Shoulder to shoulder for Liberty,
Shoulder to shoulder for Liberty.

III.

Kirk, Schomberg and Churchill
Are coming — what then?
We'll drive them and Dutch Will
To England again;
We can laugh at each threat,
For our Parliament's met —
De Courcy, O'Briain, Mac Domhnaill, Le Poer,
O'Neill and St. Lawrence, and others go leor ,
The choice of the land from Athluain to the shore!
They'll break the last link of the Sacsanach chain —
They'll give us the lands of our fathers again!
Then up ye! and fight
For your King and your Right,
Or ever toil on, and never complain,
Tho' they trample your roof-tree, and rifle your fane.
Rally, then, rally!
Irishmen, rally —
Fight Now OR NEVER ,
Now AND FOR EVER !
Laws are in vain without swords to maintain;
So, muster as fast as the fall of the rain:
Serried and rough as a field of ripe grain,
Stand by your flag upon mountain and plain:
Charge till yourselves or your foemen are slain!
Fight till yourselves or your foemen are slain!