VI.

VI.

True Geraldines! brave Geraldines!--as torrents mould the earth, You channelled deep old Ireland's heart by constancy and worth: When Ginckel 'leaguered Limerick, the Irish soldiers gazed To see if in the setting sun dead Desmond's banner blazed! And still it is the peasants' hope upon the Cuirreach's[60] mere, "They live, who'll see ten thousand men with good Lord Edward here"-- So let them dream till brighter days, when, not by Edward's shade, But by some leader true as he, their lines shall be arrayed!

VII.

These Geraldines! these Geraldines!--rain wears away the rock And time may wear away the tribe that stood the battle's shock; But ever, sure, while one is left of all that honoured race, In front of Ireland's chivalry is that Fitzgerald's place: And, though the last were dead and gone, how many a field and town, From Thomas Court to Abbeyfeile, would cherish their renown, And men would say of valour's rise, or ancient power's decline, "'Twill never soar, it never shone, as did the Geraldine."