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From the lone shielding on the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas--
But read more
From the lone shielding on the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas--
But still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
He made all countries where he came his own.
He made all countries where he came his own.
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to read more
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our read more
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!
They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
read more
They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and read more
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing.
To wander along by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.
Our country is that spot to which our heart is bound.
[Fr., La patrie est aux lieux ou l'ame read more
Our country is that spot to which our heart is bound.
[Fr., La patrie est aux lieux ou l'ame est enchainee.]
My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy read more
My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
