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Poem by John Banim * * * [Note: Air--``As slow our ship its foamy track;'' Or, ``The girl I left behind me.''] As we are men and Irishmen, Scorn for his scorn'd alliance! As we are men, and Irishmen, Unto his threat, defiance! He would, indeed, think low of us, Though his taunt hath but belied him, If, for such taunt, we had not thus Denied him, and defied him! But, words are often light as air, When most they sound a meaning, And the heart is weak when pride is there, And young fame is overweening; And it was amid his flush of fame, With his soldier--pride unbroken, The first in glory and in name, That his words of us were spoken. And time hath since gone o'er us all, And vanities as fleeting, And the chief hath heard our manful call With a pulse more calmly beating, And haply look'd at us again, And wish'd forgotten ever The biting words, which from brave men A brother brave would sever! John Banim John Banim's other poems:
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