I. OH! weep those days, the penal days, When Ireland hopelessly complained On. weep those days, the penal days, When godless persecution reigned; When, year by year, For serf and peer, Fresh cruelties were made by law, And, filled with hate, Our senate sate To weld anew each fetter's flaw; Oh! weep those days, those penal days -- Their memory still on Ireland weighs. II. They bribed the flock, they bribed the son, To sell the priest and rob the sire; Their dogs were taught alike to run Upon the scent of wolf and friar. Among the poor, Or on the moor, Were hid the pious and the true -- While traitor knave, And recreant slave, Had riches, rank, and retinue: And, exiled in those penal days, Our banners over Europe blaze. III. A stranger held the land and tower Of many a noble fugitive; No Popish ord had lordly power, The peasant scarce had leave to live Above his head A ruined shed, No tenure but a tyrant's will -- Forbid to plead, Forbid to read, Disarmed, disfranchised, imbecile -- What wonder if our step betrays The freedman, born in penal days? They're gone, they're gone, those penal days! All creeds are equal in our isle; Then grant, O Lord, thy plenteous grace, Our ancient feuds to reconcile. Let all atone For blood and groan, For dark revenge and open wrong, Let all unite For Ireland's right, And drown our griefs in freedom's song; Till time shall veil in twilight haze, The memory of those penal days. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HABEAS CORPUS by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON 23RD STREET RUNS INTO HEAVEN by KENNETH PATCHEN THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 5. THE CHANGELING by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER TO MRS. FRANCES-ARABELLA KELLY by MARY BARBER |