On the Curragh of Kildare,
The boys they will be there,
With their pikes in good repair,
Says the Shan Van Vocht.
To the Curragh of Kildare
The boys they will repair,
And Lord Edward will be there,
Says the Shan Van Vocht.

Then what will the yeomen do?

Says the Shan Van Vocht; What will the yeomen do?

Says the Shan Van Vocht; What should the yeomen do, But throw off the red and blue, And swear that they'll be true

To the Shan Van Vocht?
What should the yeomen, &c.

And what colour will they wear?
Says the Shan Van Vocht;

What colour will they wear?





Says the Shan Van Vocht;

What colour should be seen

Where our Fathers' homes have been,

But their own immortal Green?

Says the Shan Van Vocht.

What colour should, &c.

And will Ireland then be free?

Says the Shan Van Vocht;

Will Ireland then be free?

Says the Shan Van Vocht; Yes! Ireland shall be free, From the centre to the sea; Then hurrah for Liberty!

Says the Shan Van Vocht. Yes! Ireland shall &c.





5. the Bay. Bantry Bay, into which a French fleet sailed in 1796.

7. the Orange. In opposition to the United Irishmen the extreme Protestants formed clubs, called Orange Lodges after William of Orange.

21. the Curragh of Kildare is a camp outside Dublin.

23. Lord Edward. Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who went to France to organize a French invasion of Ireland. He afterwards died of wounds received in resisting arrest for treason.



WHO fears to speak of Ninety-Eight?
Who blushes at the name?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
Who hangs his head for shame ?
He's all a knave or half a slave
Who slights his country thus:
But a true man, like you, man,
Will fill your glass with us.

We drink the memory of the brave,
The faithful and the few:

Some lie far off beyond the wave,

Some sleep in Ireland, too;

All, all are gone; but still lives on
The fame of those who died;
And true men, like you, men,
Remember them with pride.

They rose in dark and evil days
To right their native land;
They kindled here a living blaze
That nothing shall withstand.





Alas! that might can vanquish right—
They fell, and pass'd away;
But true men, like you, men,
Are plenty here to-day.

Then here's their memory! may it be

For us a guiding light,

To cheer our strife for liberty

And teach us to unite.

Through good and ill be Ireland's still,

Though sad as theirs your fate;

And true men be you, men,

Like those of Ninety-Eight.






The battle of Copenhagen was fought to break up Napoleon's plan of a coalition of the northern Powers against England. Nelson led the van of our ships, and when the battle was hottest refused to see Parker's signal for recall. The Danish fleet was broken up, but could not be taken owing to its being protected by the land batteries. Thanks, however, to the tactful negotiations of Nelson with the Danes, an armistice was agreed on, which led to a treaty with the northern Powers.

[See the plan in Gardiner's Historical Atlas.]

OF Nelson and the North

Sing the glorious day's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth

All the might of Denmark's crown,

And her arms along the deep proudly shone,

By each gun the lighted brand

In a bold determined hand;

And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.


Like leviathans afloat


Lay their bulwarks on the brine,
While the sign of battle flew

On the lofty British line:

It was ten of April morn by the chime:

As they drifted on their path
There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

But the might of England flushed
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rushed

O'er the deadly space between.



'Hearts of oak!' our captain cried ; when each gun

From its adamantine lips

Spread a death-shade round the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!


And the havoc did not slack,

[blocks in formation]

Then Denmark blessed our chief
That he gave her wounds repose;
And the sounds of joy and grief
From her people wildly rose,

As death withdrew his shades from the day;

O'er a wide and woeful sight,

While the sun looked smiling bright

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

Now joy, Old England, raise

For the tidings of thy might

By the festal cities' blaze,

While the wine-cup shines in light;
And yet, amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep,
Full many a fathom deep,

By thy wild and stormy steep,

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died
With the gallant good Riou—

Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their
While the billow mournful rolls
And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls

Of the brave!








8. Prince of all the land. The Crown Prince of Denmark. 63. Elsinore. Helsingfors, commanding the entrance to the Baltic.

67. Riou, in command of the frigates, was killed during an attack on the land batteries.

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