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OF IRELAND. 95
Already do thy mountains feel
Avenging Heaven's ire ?
Hark — ^hark — this is no thunder peal,
That was no lighting fire !"
It was no fire from heaven he saw,
For, far from hill and dell,
O'er Gobbin's brow the mountain flaw
Bears musquet-shot and yeU,
And shouts of brutal glee, that teU
A foul and fearful tale ;
While over blast and breaker swell
TMn shrieks and woman's wail.
Now fill they far the upper sky,
Now down mid air they go.
The frantic scream, the piteous cry,
The groan of rage and woe ;
And wilder in their agony
And shriller stiU they grow —
Now cease they, choking suddenly ;
The waves boom on below,
" A bloody and a black revenge !
Oh, Una, blest are we
Who this sore-troubled land can change
For peace beyond the sea;
But for the manly hearts and true
That Antrim still retain,
Or be their banner green or blue,
For all that there remain,
God grant them quiet freedom too,
And blithe homes soon again !"

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