The standard of Erin! unfurl it on high!
To greet the bright day which her children hold dear; Gay joy-bells of gladness ring out to the sky!
Ring out for the Patron, the Saint, and the Seer.

Whose blessed advent woke from the dole of the grave
The nation long shrouded in paganish gloom; As with tidings of Him who suffered to save,
He pointed to life beyond death and the tomb.

This day the exile retraceth wide ocean,
To rest for a space in his far native land; Whilst minstrel-soul, tunÈd to deepest devotion,
Doth chime in the music which beats on that strand.

Though tuneless the harp that rich melody poured
On the whispering zephyrs which fan thy clear streams, And voiceless the halls where thy orators soared,
In fancy full flushed with ne'er realized dreams.

Though silence reigns drear o'er Killarney's sweet lakes,
And dark cloudlets brood over loved Arranmore; Though wave of Loch Neagh in murmuring breaks
And dashes in foam on a desolate shore,

Yet, Erin! thy glory, long prisoned in night,
Will rise to shine forth in effulgence again; And Hope's rich fruition will bask in the light
Of splendor illuming each mountain and plain.

Thy shamrock may droop by thy clear sparkling fountains,
It bloometh anew o'er this far western wave; The spirit which rose[Note] 'mid the wild Kerry mountains
Yet lives in the soul of thy loyal and brave.

Not by untoward plots, or feats of the sword,
Shall thy stainless honor and truth be maintained; By purpose of right, and with help of the Lord
Shall the fondest wish of thy leal hearts be gained.

Then mourn not the ages of sorrow and wrong,
But aye keep thy future of blessing in view; Sad weeping shall merge into triumph's glad song;—
To God, to thy sires, and to Erin prove true.