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Von LL-Not ‘ 6.
BELFAST, 5TH JUNE, 1896.
PRICE TWOPENCE.
Mick from Ga:-ryowen.
An‘ Incident of the Ilttempted Fenian Invasion
I of Canada.
Near the Canadian border, where gently sloped the sward,
Full weary‘ men, we halted us, told oil" a trusty guard,
And gladly laid our aching limbs on carpet soft and green,
And greeted warm the cloak of rest eve waited on the scene,
' We thought of Ireland far away, and every eye was dim-
We thought upon the morrow‘s fray, and every look was grime ,
Our reverie was broken by the sen’try’s ringing tone,
“ Haltl Who goes there?" and soft reply, " I'm Mick from Garry-
‘ ’ owen." , .
Loose-lirnbed, and big, and soft, and young, with wealth of ‘ ilaxen
‘ hair, ' I - I ‘ '
Half-awkwardly, with rising blush, he walked among us there,
. , The lights that dance on Shannon's wave still played about his eyes,
In their bright depths we knew the blue he caught from Irish skies,
The smile around his mouth was meant to grant that he was raw;
V But its earnest pleading warmth the sternest heart to him might-
’ thaw, '
. "" It's tould me, boys, ye mane to place ould Grania on her throne-
So here am I to help ye l " said Mick from Garryowen.
He bubbled o'er with freshness, with Irish life and glee: '
Our war‘-scarred vet'rans came like boys and sat around his knee;
‘ . He led us’ o'er the breezy hills where he so late had strayed. ,,
B)’ Shannon's banks and ilower-starred holms, with him we leaped
and played; 7
No longer werewe warriors rude, but loving-hearted boys.
' Full rich with boyhood's innocence, and gay with boyhood’s joys:
Ere Sleep had pressed our lids that night, her mantle o'er us thrown-
. Four hundred ‘ hearty, trusty, friends had Mick from Garryowen.
With quickened pulse, at morning's call. we dressed our scanty
' ranks,
For one moreiblessing pleaded, and for blessings shown gave thanks-
Our eager hearts were beating high, for joy they were 3gl0“"“
Anmhelj hour, Alanna! and for thee we'd deal a blow.
, i , But proudest there the Limerick boy, for tlutt'ring told on fold.
' 'Ab0Ve his high-tossed head he reared the Irish Green and Gold :
.He looked upon our ranks, and on the flag above him b1own4
‘f Now, glory be to God this day 1" said Mick from Garryowen.
7 50011. hotly we encountered the English. one to four,- ,
. A 5108311 wild, and like the stormldown on their ranks we bore 2
Like mowers in the corn-field plied the bright blades keen.
Mick stead'ly pressing in the front, and waving high the Green 3
when like startled deer they scattered, he sank on the hillside.
he 5P0Ylcss soul fast quitting him upon a crimson tide.
V6 gathered round, his face lit up, deep joywwas in his tone-
" B"YS. what a day for Gramachree ! " said Mick from Garryowen.
‘ Th msh Rellublicnn army. numbering four hundred. 9!N0““ieg‘t;;d “mi dc" ‘
l t a
[med lixteen hundred oi the enemy at Limestone Bridses Jime 2' 1 '
"On a sunny bill by Limerick ye’l1 find a patch of farm, -
An’ a cabin, when ye near it yer heart 'ilI somehow warm;
A poor ould woman lives there with a heart that's vexed an’ lone,
Belike, it it's the evenin' she'll be on the threshel stone
A-strainin’ of her misty eyes to where the sun goes down-
Ye'll know her, for her like again there's not on Irish groun’-
Say, for her Pastliemjimz aclireef to never more bemoan,
He's died for Grania’s glory, an‘ for hers in Garryowen ! "
We dug a grace just where his blood had dyed the green sod red,
With tender care, poor boy, we laid him in his narrow bed.
The hill it sloped to eastward, so he looked him far away
To Ireland of his heart's love and the Dawning ofthe Day !
As we packed the cold clay on that breast whose kind warmth
lingered yet.
Hearts thawed them from a frost of years, and fnrrowedlcheeks
were wet,- V
Salt tears besprayed the daisied quilt o'er his fair head was thrown:
" Now rest with God, agrah," we said, "poor Mick from Garry-
owen ! "
Mac. ’
t The (air haired child of her heart.
In the North Countrie.
No. III.-Sorclm RmuIh’s"‘ Trouble.
V, ONEGAL has lost count of her exiles, they
have been so many. Yet in all their wan-
" derings, north or south, or east. or west,
the faith of their fathers and the love of
A the motherland have ever been first with
them through poverty and wealth, and it was one of these
--far away and tortured with heart-hunger--who, keep-
ing in memory the homestead ,in the Finn Val-ley that
was his birthplace, sent in a letter to the old people the
sorrowful crude little song that Sorclza Ruadh sang as she
stepped lightly between her wooden pails of sweettspring
water:- 1
" Farewell to Stlonorlar and Ballybot'ey- N
These towns they are beautiful, gallant and gay;' I
These towns they are beautiful, rare to be seen, -
An’ they're close to Finn Water nigh Dreenan bleach-green.
When 1 think upon Dreenan my heart it is sad-
I My friends and acquaintance have all gone abroad:
Far, far they have wandered from that distant shore-
Then fare-you-well, Drecnan, an’ sweet Edenmore."r 1
"Her voice still held a note of youthfulness, and rang
out proudly, as if there lurked in her breast a conscious-
‘ Red-haired Sarah.