National Melodies.

No. I.

MEN OF WEXFORD.

I.

MEN of Wexford, halt not, pause not,
While you still have work to do;
Wipe away that burning plague spot
That too long has hung o'er you.
'Twas

your shores were first invaded
By a foreign Saxon band,

Wexford slept not then, nor dreaded
To attack them on the strand.38

II.

'Twas our sires first bled for freedom, 'Twas their blood was last to flow; And should e'er our country need them, We have hearts to face the foe.

Though they poured their blood like water

Free on many a hard-fought plain,

All this carnage, gore, and slaughter

But cemented Erin's chain.

III.

In the time of every danger
Wexford took a noble part:
Can the bonds of slavery change her,
Will she show a craven's heart?

No, by every link that binds us

To the bright but bloody past,

Erin still shall ever find us

"Slow but sure" to win at last.39

IV.

Let the past direct and guide us,
Let the present ever show
That no change can e'er divide us
Practised by the wily foe.

Then once more let Wexford rally,
And keep up the bloodless fight;
Let each mountain, rock, and valley
Ring with " Persevere! unite!"

No. 2.

BRIGHT, BRIGHT WAS THE MORN.

(A Song of the Shielmaliers.)

I.

BRIGHT, bright was the morn when the bold shielmalier,

Undaunted by bayonet, a stranger to fear,

Sprang up from his heather-couch, sparkling with dew,

To muster with Grogan, Hay, Harvey and Keogh !
He paused not to take a last look at his cot,
Or the loved ones that clung to that favourite spot;
Yet a tear dimmed his eye, as he bounded along,
When he heard through the copse-wood his Mary's
sweet song.

II.

Ay, listen again to that soft, plaintive voice,

'Tis the last thou wilt hear from the maid of thy choice.

One moment he faltered, and yet he was brave :—
"My country her freedom, or freemen a grave!
Let the craven and coward inactive remain,
And bless the oppressor while forging his chain ;
But never again shall we seek our repose

Till our banners triumphantly float o'er our foes!"

III.

The green flags are streaming from hill-top and glen,

The valleys resound with the trampling of men,

And woodland and mountain are bristling with

spears

Of thousands of dauntless and bold shielmaliers !
Like torrents resistless they rush on the foe,

And horses and riders at once are laid low,

And helmets and halberts are shivered in twain,

And plumed caps and colours are strewed on the plain!

IV.

Oh! where are the thousands in glittering array
That swept o'er the field at the dawning of day?
Their chivalry's faded, their glory is past,
Their trumpets no more shall be heard on the blast!
They came in the pride and the trappings of war,
But their legions were broken and scattered afar,
Not a vestige remains, not a banner is seen,

Save the standard of Erin-the bright, fadeless green!

V.

The foe fled like cowards, but ruin marked their

flight,

And chapels and cottages blazed through the night;

And the shouts of the spoilers were heard on the gale,

Commingling with woman's deep, heartrending wail.
But vows of wild vengeance rose madly beside
The death-bed of many a maniac bride:

Men swore, as beside their ruined altars they stood,
That they'd wash out the stain of defilement by

blood.

VI.

Let Oulart, and Arklow, and Ross truly tell
How the cohorts of Britain ingloriously fell.
A voice from the past cries, in warning, "Beware
Of what the infuriate peasant will dare!"'40
Oh, never again let wild war's bloody hand

Be raised 'gainst the freedom and faith of our land!
Oh, never again let the red flag and green
In hostile array in our country be seen!

No. 3.

OH! BLAME NOT THE MEN.

I.

OH! blame not the men who for liberty perished,
The fearless in heart who devotedly bled!

Long, long shall their memory through Erin be cherished,

Long, long shall we mourn o'er the shrines of the dead!