When treason raised her gorgon head,
And stalked gigantic o'er the land,
In myriads rose our hostile foes,
Excited by their leader Dan.

The war-whoop's knell rang through Clonmell,
Where thirteen thousand dressed in green
Did issue forth, while o'er the north

They thought to vent their bloody spleen.

Then Lawless Jack, with crest erect,
Deputed by the Popish clan,
To Ulster went, to lift the rent,
And organize the Ribbonmen.
To bear his train Louth's ruddy dames,
With cabbage stalks did volunteer,
From Derry's wall to drive them all
Who'd dare to stop their bold career.

To Cullin, fair, they did repair,
Upon the sacred Sabbath morn;
Though Ferrard's Lord, the deed abhor'd,
The Popish Chapel took by storm.
This triumph gained, Jack then proclaimed,
As farther north he'd wend his way,
His clans would rise and soon surprise
The Orange Boys of Ballybay.

Our Orangemen, like brothers then,
In martial ranks appeared that day,
Determined all to stand or fall,

By the Pope-hating Samuel Gray.

Our heroes brave, resolved to save

Our nation from the Papal yoke ; And Church and State to extricate

From the impending fatal stroke.

Then to our aid, a small brigade

Of Lancers from Belturbet came;
And from Armagh, a valiant staff,

Commanded by brave Thornton ;
Who cautioned Jack to turn back,
For as he passed through Ballybay,
Ten thousand armed, of the alarmed,
Had ta'en the field with Samuel Gray!

Then Jack declared, "he'd often heard
Of that great person Dauntless Gray ;
But never dreamed that he sustained
Such influence in Ballybay."
Then to their heels they took the fields,
Jack galloped off to their surprise;
While Orange cheers rung in their ears,
And "No Surrender," rent the skies.

Now in the end, I'd recommend,

Throughout the province round and round;

An effigy of Samuel Gray

Be posted up in every town.

When the curs'd race would see his face

You'd hear them thus distracted say ;— Curs'd be our lot, we'll all be shot,

For yonder's Sam from Ballybay.

SHANNON.

Orange Sentiments.

Come brethren, fill your glasses high,
In concord let us join,

And drink the glorious memory

Of him who crossed the Boyne.
William! thy name is ever dear,—
Of thee we'll ever sing;

Thy praises we will still revere—
Our father and our King!

Chorus.

Then, brethren, fill your glasses high,
In concord let us join ;

And drink the glorious memory,
Of him who crossed the Boyne.

For one great cause we will unite-
For that just cause we'll die;
Bound to defend our country's right,
Our King and liberty;
Our constitution and our laws,

Our blest religion too;

All, all unite in this great cause,

Our standard is "True Blue."

If Irish, French, or haughty Dons,
Against our King doth rise;

We'll show them that great William's sons

Their hellish power despise.

For William's spirit we retain,

By Heaven's divine command;

And, bound by one great sacred chain,

We'll triumph o'er the land.

Walker's Pillar.

Shall freedom's awful voice no more
Ascend in minstrelsy sublime?
Shall Derry's secret band of yore

Still slumber in the dust of time?
Here chieftains fell in manhood's prime ;
But heaven regards their destiny,

And spreads from hence through every clime,
The vestal flame of liberty.

Oft rosy hues of Foyla's breast,

On Windmill-hill the noon-day sun,

On Pennyburn the breezes west

Have play'd since faith and freedom won! But from the deeds that here were done

Historic glory fades away; Here every field is Marathon,

And every pass Thermopylae!

When royal treason doom'd our fall,

The powers of darkness onward drove,
Disease and famine scaled our wall,
And floods of horror closed above.

Then freedom, like a banished dove-
Bereft of home-bereft of rest-

Sought refuge in a city's love,

And found an ark-the freeman's breast!

Rise, WALKER! father of the free!
Undaunted soldier, saint and sage!

Thy Bible and thy sword shall be

Our beacon lights from age to age:

The 'Prentice Boys our hearts engage,
And Murray still in mem'ry warm,
Who gleamed amid the battle's rage,
A bolt of vengeance in the storm.

Around this pile, from year to year,

Shall grateful sires their homage pay,
And pledge the youthful hero here
To liberty and truth, for aye.
Inspired by deeds of glory's day,

A phalanx firm shall still be known,
With heart and hand like those away,
To guard the altar and the throne.

ROBERT YOUNG.

To Fermanagh.

Prize thou the Bible anchor, sure
In every storm to save thee;
The rich bequest of precepts pure
Which thy Redeemer left thee.
Though memory recall the past,
Be it repeated never;
Thy country's future lot be cast
In happiness forever!

May peace and plenty bless the land,

While Erne enamoured dallies

Around thy flood-girt palace, and
Among thy verdant vallies.