Our Island

By Edward Lysaght

From The Cabinet of Irish Literature, Volume 2, edited by Charles A. Read.

May God, in whose hand
Is the lot of each land—
Who rules over ocean and dry land—
Inspire our good king
From his presence to fling
Ill advisers who'd ruin our island.
Don't we feel 'tis our dear native island!
A fertile and fine little island!
May Orange and Green
No longer be seen
Bestain'd with the blood of our island.

The fair ones we prize
Declare they despise
Those who'd make it a slavish and vile land;
Be their smiles our reward,
And we'll gallantly guard
All the rights and delights of our island—
For, oh! 'tis a lovely green island!
Bright beauties adorn our dear island!
At St. Patrick's command
Vipers quitted our land—
But he's wanted again in our island!

For her interest and pride,
We oft fought by the side
Of England, that haughty and high land;
Nay, we'd do so again,
If she'd let us remain
A free and a flourishing island—
But she, like a crafty and sly land,
Dissension excites in our island,
And, our feuds to adjust,
She would lay in the dust
All the freedom and strength of our island.

A few years ago—
Though now she says no—
We agreed with that surly and sly land,
That each, as a friend,
Should the other defend,
And the crown be the link of each island:
'Twas the final state-bond of each island;
Independence we swore to each island.
Are we grown so absurd
As to credit her word,
When she's breaking her oath with our island?

Let us steadily stand
By our king and our land,
And it sha'n't be a slavish or vile land;
Nor impudent Pitt
Unpunished commit
An attempt on the rights of our island.
Each voice should resound through our island—
You're my neighbour, but, Bull, this is my land!
Nature's favourite spot—
And I'd sooner be shot
Than surrender the rights of our island!

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Edward Lysaght
Kate of Garnavilla
The Sprig of Shillelah
Sweet Chloe
Thy Spirit is from Bondage Free
To Henry Grattan
Kitty of Coleraine