THE TIDE IS TURNING.

SO, masters who have ruled so long With cruel rods of iron, Who sought with gyves and fetters strong Our freedom to environ, In plenitude of sullen power Our tearful pleadings spurning: Prepare ye for your fated hour, Beware—the tide is turning! Yes! yes! at last we fling the past With all its woes behind us, And stand to-day in firm array Against the bonds that bind us. With brutal grip of tyrant hand Ye choked our aspirations, And made our fertile motherland The Niobe of nations; To feed the vices of your lords, Ye stole the people’s earning, And held the theft with hireling swords— But now the tide is turning! Yes! yes! to-day your hated sway Is tottering to ruin, The Irish race a future face That will not harbor you in! Ye kept us chained to ignorance, In fear that education Might teach our brains the wisest chance To liberate the nation. But, spite of all your guile and thrall, Our people still are learning What most will tend your yoke to rend, And so the tide is turning. Yes! yes! the cause, despite your laws, Each rusty chain is breaking; The portents smile upon our isle, For Ireland is awaking. From meadows rich of smooth Kildare To frowning crags of Kerry, From ocean-girdled shores of Clare To busy marts of Derry, In our opprest, north, south, east, west, A newer spirit’s burning— The conquering fire of brave desire, That tells the tide is turning. Yes! yes! we mark through centuries dark The light at last is blazing, Till on our brow no serf-brand now Can chill a friendly gazing.