The Proclamation

Saint Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herds     Of Ballymena, wakened with these words     Arise, and flee     Out from the land of bondage, and be free!     Glad as a soul in pain, who hears from heaven     The angels singing of his sins forgiven,     And, wondering, sees     His prison opening to their golden keys,     He rose a man who laid him down a slave,     Shook from his locks the ashes of the grave,     And outward trod     Into the glorious liberty of God.     He cast the symbols of his shame away;     And, passing where the sleeping Milcho lay,     Though back and limb     Smarted with wrong, he prayed, God pardon him!     So went he forth; but in Gods time he came     To light on Uillines hills a holy flame;     And, dying, gave     The land a saint that lost him as a slave.     O dark, sad millions, patiently and dumb     Waiting for God, your hour at last has come,     And freedoms song     Breaks the long silence of your night of wrong!     Arise and flee! shake off the vile restraint     Of ages; but, like Ballymenas saint,     The oppressor spare,     Heap only on his head the coals of prayer.     Go forth, like him! like him return again,     To bless the land whereon in bitter pain     Ye toiled at first,     And heal with freedom what your slavery cursed.