Then, brother man, if all agreed, Though live we mayn't to see such, Let's tack this trifle to our creed,

And chant a long "So be such!" All knavish souls, or high or low,

May conscience-cuffs distress them; But honest hearts, where'er they grow, The King of Kingdoms bless them! May all who hold a sicklier thought, Hold bitters, too, to mend it;

But bless, O Heaven, the better taught

Their teaching, Lord, defend it!

MY KALLAGH DHU ASTHORE.

AGAIN the flowery feet of June

Have tracked our cottage side; And o'er the waves the timid moon

Steals, smiling like a bride:

But what were June or flowers to me,
Or waves, or moon, or more,
If evening came and brought not thee,
My Kallagh dhu asthore!

Let others prize their lordly lands,

And sceptres gemmed with blood; More dear to me the honest hands

That earn my babes their food: And little reck we queens or kings When daily labor's o'er; And by the evening embers sings My Kallagh dhu asthore!

And when he sings, his every song
Is sacred freedom's own:
And like his voice his arm is strong,
For labor nursed the bone:
And then his step, and such an eye!

Ah, fancy! touch no more;
My spirit swims, in holy joy,

O'er Kallagh dhu asthore!

His voice is firm, his knee is proud,
When pomp's imperious tone
Would have the free-born spirit bowed,
That right should bow alone;
For well does Kallagh know his due,
Nor ever seeks he more;
Would Heaven mankind were all like

you,

My Kallagh dhu asthore!

And Kallagh is an Irishman

In sinew, soul, or bone;

Not e'en the veins of old Slieveban

Are purer than his own;