POETRY.

A CRY FROM ERIN. ERIN, our country,—our dear one ! Sadder thy days grow, and sadder ; Never a promise before thee, Hardly a record behind. Ever a yearning for greatness, Ever a crying for freedom, Ever with failure on failure; Thy children untrue, disunited, Blind men leading the blind.

Oh, for a leader to lead us !

0 God for a leader to lead us !

To teach us our strength and our weakness, To tell all the world we are true.

Oh, that one rose up among us Who should be as the voice of thee, Erin !— The cry, for which we have waited, The cry that has never been uttered,— A leader to show us our trouble, And meet it, and carry us through. But never the true one arises ; Only false leaders, self-seekers, Showing the world all our folly, All that is worst in us, weakest ; Always the selfish and little, Never the true and the strong. Branding us unto the nations, As one which has bartered its birthright; Yelling for rights which are no rights, Leaving unspoken our wrong.

0 green isle in the ocean, Land of the soldier who fears not, Land of the warm-hearted comrade,

Land of the true-hearted maid ! Fought have our fathers,— how nobly ! Joy there has been in the old time ; Songs in the past, in thy sunshine,—

None can sing now, in the shade ! All our hearts' gladness is darkened, Heavy the shame lies upon us. Fight ! We have nothing to fight for.

Dishonoured we are, and dismayed.

We hear our own false ones belie us ; We hear how the English misjudge us ; We hear their pity and blame.

But we know the fire of our spirit, And we know we are misunderstanded. We are proud, and despise all the pity ; And yet we have no voice to speak with, And needs must abide in our shame.

Not so in olden time, Erin.

Once thou wert famed among nations For piety, honour, and learning, Peace, and good-will unto men. Holy men came from afar off, Lived tranquil lives in thy shelter, And, among turbulent nations, Thou sentest glad tidings again.

But now we are fallen, are fallen !

Discord, and tumult, and murder, Clamour, and impotent ravings, Are the voices we give to the world.

We are slaves to our own meanest passions ; The flag of mad licence is brandished, The flag of old Freedom is furled.

Because of our love of our country, Because we are simple and trustful, Because our hearts soon may be fired,

So twice be the shame upon those Who knew it,—made Erin the watchword To make us unworthy of Erin, To goad as to murder and meanness,

And made us our own hardest foes.

And because of our love of our country, Because we are simple and trustful, Because our hearts soon may be fired,

0 God that a leader would rise, To speak for our desolate country,—

To show us the way we may serve her, To wipe out our shame and dishonour, And open our enemies' eyes! SIDNEY HIFI:EAGLET.