Classic Poem

A CHAUNT OF THE BRIGADE .

I.

S ARSFIELD has sailed from Limerick Town,
He held it long for country and crown;
And ere he yielded, the Saxon swore
To spoil our homes and our shrines no more.

II.

Sarsfield and all his chivalry
Are fighting for France in the low countrie —
At his fiery charge the Saxons reel,
They learned at Limerick to dread the steel.

III.

Sarsfield is dying on Landen's plain;
His corslet hath met the ball in vain —
As his life-blood gushes into his band,
He says, " Oh! that this was for father-land! "

IV.

Sarsfield is dead, yet no tears shed we —
For he died in the arms of Victory,
And his dying words shall edge the brand,
When we chase the foe from our native land!