45. The Rising of the Moon

“OH, THEN tell me, Shawn O’Farrall,

Tell me why you hurry so?”

“Hush, ma bouchal, hush and listen;”

And his cheeks were all a-glow:

“I bear orders from the Captain—

Get you ready quick and soon;

For the pikes must be together

At the Rising of the Moon.”

“Oh, then tell me, Shawn O’Farrall

Where the gathering is to be?”

“In the oul’ spot by the river

Right well known to you and me;

One word more—for signal token

Whistle up the marching tune,

With your pike upon your shoulder,

At the Rising of the Moon.”

Out from many a mud-wall cabin

Eyes were watching through the night:

Many a manly chest was throbbing

For the blessed warning light;

Murmurs passed along the valley

Like the Banshee’s lonely croon,

And a thousand blades were flashing

At the Rising of the Moon.

There, beside the singing river,

That dark mass of men were seen—

Far above the shining weapons

Hung their own beloved green.

Death to every foe and traitor!

Forward! strike the marching tune,

And hurrah, my boys, for freedom!

’Tis the Rising of the Moon.”

Well they fought for poor Old Ireland,

And full bitter was their fate;

(Oh! what glorious pride and sorrow

Fill the name of Ninety-Eight!)

Yet, thank God, e’en still are beating

Hearts in manhood’s burning noon,

Who would follow in their footsteps

At the Rising of the Moon.