Their spears were bristling

On th' other bank: Yet we stood steady, And each good blade, Ere the morn did fade,

At their life-blood drank.

"Hurrah! for Freedom!
Came from our van,
"Hurrah! for Freedom!
Our swords-we'll feed 'em
As best we can

With vengeance we'll feed 'em!"
Then down we crashed,

Through the wild ford dashed,
And the fray began.

Horses to horses

And man to man :

O'er dying horses,
And blood and corses,
O'Sullivan,

Our general, thundered,
And we were not slack
To slay at his back

Till the fight began.

O how we scattered
The foemen then,
Slaughtered and scattered,
And chased and shattered,
By shore and glen !
To the wall of Moyallo

Few fled that day:

Will they bar our way
When we come again?

Our dead frères we buried,
They were but few,
Our dead frères we buried
Where the dark waves hurried,
And flashed and flew :
O sweet be their slumber
Who thus have died

In the battle's tide,

Innisfail, for you!

THE BLACKSMITH OF LIMERICK

HE

grasped his ponderous hammer; he could not stand it more,

To hear the bombshells bursting and the thundering battle's roar.

He said: "The breach they're mounting, the Dutchman's murdering crew

I'll try my hammer on their heads and see what that can do!

"Now, swarthy Ned and Moran, make up that iron well;

'Tis Sarsfield's horse that wants the shoes, so mind not shot or shell."

"Ah, sure," cried both, "the horse can wait-for Sarsfield's on the wall,

And where you go we'll follow, with you to stand or fall!"

The blacksmith raised his hammer, and rushed into

the street,

His 'prentice boys behind him, the ruthless foe to

meet

High on the breach of Limerick, with dauntless hearts they stood

Where the bombshells burst and shot fell thick, and redly ran the blood.

"Now look you, brown-haired Moran, and mark you, swarthy Ned;

This day we'll prove the thickness of many a Dutchman's head!

Hurrah! upon their bloody path they're mounting gallantly;

And now the first that tops the breach, leave him to this and me!"

The first that gained the rampart, he was a captain brave !

A captain of the Grenadiers, with blood-stained dirk and glaive;

He pointed and he parried, but it was all in vain, For fast through skull and helmet the hammer found his brain!

The next that topped the rampart, he was a colonel bold,

Bright through the murk of battle his helmet flashed with gold.

"Gold is no match for iron!" the doughty blacksmith said,

As with that ponderous hammer he cracked his foeman's head!

"Hurrah for gallant Limerick !" black Ned and Moran cried,

As on the Dutchmen's leaden heads their hammers well they plied;

A bombshell burst between them-one fell without a

groan,

One leaped into the lurid air, and down the breach was thrown!

"Brave smith! brave smith!" cried Sarsfield, "beware the treacherous mine —

Brave smith brave smith! fall backward, or surely death is thine!"

The smith sprang up the rampart and leaped the blood-stained wall,

As high into the shuddering air went foemen, breach and all !

Up like a red volcano they thundered wild and high, Spear, gun, and shattered standard, and foemen through the sky;

And dark and bloody was the shower that round the blacksmith fell

He thought upon his 'prentice boys, they were avenged well!

On foeman and defenders a silence gathered down, 'Twas broken by a triumph-shout that shook the ancient town;

As out its heroes sallied, and bravely charged and

slew,

And taught King William and his men what Irish hearts can do!