THE MEMORY OF O'CONNELL.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume III, Issue 119, 6 August 1875, Page 6

THE MEMORY OF O'CONNELL.

•H" 1 " ' ' BY THOMAS BBACKEN. FTue follow nif tribute to the memory of the Liberator, was written for tho Centenary Celebiation of O'Uonncll,and read by the author at the banquet in Dunedm, 6th August, 1875 1 Come ye whose spirits arc unfettered, yo Who dare to burst the trammels of the past, Ye, who obey the Man-God's golden rule, By granting others what ye claim yourselves. Come ye whose father's fought for conscience sate, On England's plains and Scotia's rugged hills ; Come all who worship at the sacred Shrine Of Liberty ! Come Freemen, one and all, Of every race and clime and creed upon This oval Planet's surface ! Come with me, And let's unlock the casket which contains That jewel rare— a great Man's memory. A hundred years to-day, in that fair Isle — Which as an emerald ornament is set Above Atlantic's palpitating heart, | The Power Supreme, who guides Creation's works, j And moulds His creatures' destinies will, j Looked down with pity on an enslav'd race, And bid a Giant live, to rend their chains. Then Freedom soared above Killarney's lakes, And breathed upon wild Magillicuddy's Eeeks, And in the peaceful home of Derrynane, That nestles in the arms of Kerry's hills, The Liberator of his land was born. A hundred years to-day ! — look back with me Across the gulf, and note how times have changed ! The crouching bondsman on the other side Bends low with forced submission, nor dares To look tip to his Maker, save by stealth ! J Tis crime in him to call his soul his own ; But lo ! between the banks of Now and Then, A chieftain stands with head erect and proud, Clad in the armour of a righteous cause,_ And fighting with those weapons of the just — The " Voice and Pen ;" and as his glowing words Hush tip to Heaven, slumbering Justice wakes. A hundred years to-day ! — the time seems short, And yet within that century the earth Has changed her face, for Pioneers of Eight, Have hewn away the rotten trunks of "Wrong That grew upon her breast, and sapped the springs Of nutriment from out her bosom's core, 'Till all her weaker plants could scarcely live j And in the vanguard of that noble host O'Connell stood — the people's crownloss king, Pointing in triumph to the tracks he'd cleared To Paradise, where souls might freely soar The way which pleased them be&t, to meet their God. Oh ! Brothers, we are privileged to hold The first position in the ranks of Light, The nations we are building in the South Can rear their golden heads on high, and boast That all their children — sprung from every race — Have equal rights to chant Jehovah's praise As suits their choice. And Brothers, we are protid Of our unsullied charter, and we're proud Of all the noble and unselfish men Who fought in bye-gone years for human rights ; And this is why we twine our wreath.* of song, And weave our garlands 'round O'Connell' s name.