mire;
And Erin's hopes and Erin's dreamsPerish upon her monarch's pyre.In palace, cabin or in cotThe Irish heart where'er it beIs bowed with woe — for he is goneWho would have wrought her destiny.He would have had his Erin famed,The green flag gloriously unfurled,Her statesmen, bards, and warriors raisedBefore the nations of the World.He dreamed (alas, 'twas but a dream!)Of Liberty: but as he stroveTo clutch that idol, treacherySundered him from the thing he loved.Shame on the coward, caitiff handsThat smote their Lord or with a lossBetrayed him to the rabble-routOf fawning priests — no friends of his.May everlasting shame consumeThe memory of those who triedTo befoul and smear the exalted nameOf one who spurned them in his pride.He fell as fall the mighty ones,Nobly undaunted to the last,And death has now united himWith Erin's heroes of the past.No sound of strife disturb his sleep!Calmly he rests: no human painOr high ambition spurs him nowThe peaks of glory to attain.They had their way: they laid him low.But Erin, list, his spirit mayRise, like the Phoenix from the flames,When breaks the dawning of the day,The day that brings us Freedom's reign.And on that day may Erin wellPledge in the cup she lifts to JoyOne grief — the memory of Parnell.Mr Hynes sat down again on the table. When he had finished his recitation there was a silence and then a burst of clapping: even Mr Lyons clapped. The applause continued for a little time. When it had ceased all the auditors drank from their bottles in silence.
Pok! The cork flew out of Mr Hynes' bottle, but Mr Hynes remained sitting flushed and bareheaded on the table. He did not seem to have heard the invitation.
`Good man, Joel' said Mr O'Connor, taking out his cigarette papers and pouch the better to hide his emotion.