The Black
Boneens, who were suffering more than the Mavericks, on a hill
half a mile away, began presently to explain to all who cared to
listen -
We'll sound the jubilee, from the centre to the sea,
And Ireland shall be free, says the Shan-van Vogh.
"Sing, boys," said Father Dennis softly. "It looks as if we cared
for their Afghan peas."
Dan Grady raised himself to his knees and opened his mouth in a
song imparted to him, as to most of his comrades, in the strictest
confidence by Mulcahy - that Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting
on the grass, the chill fear of death upon him.
Company after company caught up the words which, the I. A. A. say,
are to herald the general rising of Erin, and to breathe which,
except to those duly appointed to hear, is death. Wherefore they
are printed in this place.
The Saxon in Heaven's just balance is weighed,
His doom like Belshazzar's in death has been cast,
And the hand of the venger shall never be stayed
Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of the past.
They were heart-filling lines and they ran with a swirl; the I. A.
A. are better served by their pens than their petards. Dan clapped
Mulcahy merrily on the back, asking him to sing up.
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