"And the tyrant was told

What that vessel had braved,

And he knew that our city

Was succoured and saved.

So he led off his men,

In their honours so fine,

To receive their reward

On the banks of the Boyne!

Oh, Derry, mavourneen!

May Protestant men

Be as valorous now,

As their fathers were then ;
May they shew, by their deeds,
Of what spirit they are,

Like the good men and true—
Crying Derry-go-bragh!'

He ceased! the bard his lyre unstrung,
And tore its thrilling cords in twain ;
His harp by Derry's waters hung,
Nor thought to sing the like again.

But let the Papist ever dare

To siege our holy faith-he will, He'll take the harp that moulders there, And rouse its ancient echoes still.

For valiant deeds again shall be,
A theme as noble for his story-
As vain all Popish tyranny

To bind our souls or dim our glory.

DO WHAT YOU CAN!

A WORD TO WORKING MEN.

COME, Protestant workmen !
A word to your hearts :
We must have you arousing

And playing your parts ;

In the battle of truth

You must come to the van,

You must brace on your armour, And do what you can.

You have heads, to indite,

You have fingers, can write,

And your weapons, though rude, Will improve in the fight :

Let

your sword be" the Truth". Though its polish they scan, They will shrink from its fall, When you do what you can.

You have ears, that have heard Of the "Jezebel's" guilt;

You have hearts, that can feel For the blood she has spilt;

And

your ears and your hearts Will inspire you a plan,

And you'll put it in practice

To do what you can.

You have tongues, that can tell What the "Harlot" has done To the "martyrs of old,"

Who have suffered and gone;

Till our Protestant spirits

Arise to a man,

And vow by their mem❜ry,
To do what they can!

Then, ye workmen, who boast Of a Protestant name,