Chapter 6

While other lands in bitter strife Fought wildly for kingship or gold, The words of peace, the way of life, Within fair Ireland were told.

The Druid priests their rites forbore, And listen'd to the words that fell From Patrick's pious lips, as o'er The land he told his story well.

His lips told of the way of life; His self-denying actions, too, Enforc'd the truth, where all was rife With wrongful rites of darken'd hue.

The people listen'd to his voice, And learn'd to love the faith he taught; When fruits arose in after years, They bless'd the name of him who wrought.

Who wrought successfully to place Religion's fight within the land-- A benefit to all his race, At home, or on a foreign strand.

Religion's flight shone clear and bright, And then the lesser lights appear'd; Learning arose with quiet might, And simple minds it rais'd and cheer'd.

Old Tara's heathen temple rung With sounds, whose waves are rolling yet, From which unmeasur'd good has sprung, Which grateful hearts will not forget.

The triple leaf--St. Patrick's flow'r-- Long may it grow, long may it bear Those symbols of the mighty Pow'r, That rules the sea, the earth, the air.

The Shamrock! may our hearts entwine, And meet in one, as it, tho' three; And may your patron Saint, and mine, Our patron saint forever be.

THE END.