But vainly spent were storm and shock On that deathless seed, that living rockThe isle is filled with the brave old stock, And they've worth and wealth around them! When fire and sword had done thefr parts, Then tried those foes their baser arts And if good work is yet undone, Is one bright field of glory! SONG FROM THE BACKWOODS. DEEP in Canadian woods we've met, Ireland, boys, Hurra! We've heard her faults a hundred times, The new ones and the old, In songs and sermons, rants and rhymes, Enlarged some fifty fold. But take them all, the great and small, And this we've got to say :— Here's dear Old Ireland! Good Old Ireland! Ireland, boys, Hurra ! We know that brave and good men tried That patriots suffered, martyrs died, But no, boys, no! a glance will show Here's good Old Ireland ! Ireland, boys, Hurra! We've seen the wedding and the wake, The patron and the fair; The stuff they take, the fun they make, And the heads they break down there, With a loud "hurroo" and a pillalu," And a thundering "clear the way!" Here's gay Old Ireland! Dear Old Ireland ! Ireland, boys, Hurra! And well we know in the cool gray eves, When the hard day's work is o'er, How soft and sweet are the words that greet 66 The friends who meet once more; With Mary machree !" and " My Pat!" 't is he !" And "My own heart night and day !" Dear Old Ireland ! Ireland, boys, Hurra! And happy and bright are the groups that pass From their peaceful homes, for miles O'er fields, and roads, and hills, to Mass, When Sunday morning smiles! And deep the zeal their true hearts feel Ireland, boys, Hurra! But deep in Canadian woods we've met, And we never may see again The dear old isle where our hearts are set, And our first fond hopes remain ! I'M VERY HAPPY WHERE I AM. A PEASANT WOMAN'S SONG. 1864. I'm very happy where I am, * An Irish-American, author of the popular drama The Colleen Bawn "from Gerald Griffin's Irish novel of "The Collegians." I'm very happy far from home, It's only in the night, when Pat I lie awake, and no one knows For a little voice, still calls me back There is a little spot of ground It rises like my heart just now, It's from below the voice comes out, Oh! little voice; ye call me back And nobody can hear ye spake, |