Rhode Island Republican

THE IRISHMAN.

The Savage loves his native shore,
Tho' bare the soil, and chill the air;
Well then may Erin's Sons adore
Their Isle, that Nature form'd so fair!
What flood reflects a fairer face,
As glorious Boyne, or pastoral Bann
And who a friend or foe can meet,
So generous as an Irishman?
His hand is in his heart, his heart
Is in his warm and open breast;
But Principle is still his guide,
None more repents a deed of harm,
And none forgives with nobler pride
He may be dull'd, but won't be dar'd,
Fitter to practice than to plan,
He shily earns his poor reward;
And spends it like an Irishman.
If strange and poor, for you he'll pay,
And guide you safe where you may be
Are you his comrade-awhile you stay
His cottage holds a jubilee
His homely soul his will unlock
And if he may your merit scan,
Your confidence he scorns to mock.
For faithful is an Irishman!
By honor bound, in woe or weal,
What'er the tide he dares to do;
Tempt him with bribes, or if you fail
Try him in fire, and find him true;
He seeks not safety: let him post,
Be where it ought, in danger's van
Ind if the field of fame be lost,
Will not be by an Irishman.
Clad in a garb how gay the scene,
May you become more fam'd, more free!
May peace be yours-or if you wage,
Defensive war---cheap victory!
May plenty bloom in every field,
Your healthful breezes oft inspire,
And pleasure's smiles serenely gild,
The breast of every Irishman.