| |
| HE grasped his ponderous hammer, he could not stand it more, | |
| To hear the bombshells bursting, and thundering battle’s roar; | |
| He said, “The breach they ’re mounting, the Dutchman’s murdering crew,— | |
| I ’ll try my hammer on their heads, and see what that can do! | |
| |
| “Now, swarthy Ned and Moran, make up that iron well; | 5 |
| ’T is Sarsfield’s horse that wants the shoes, so mind not shot or shell.” | |
| “Ah, sure,” cried both, “the horse can wait, for Sarsfield ’s on the wall, | |
| And where you go, we ’ll follow, with you to stand or fall!” | |
| |
| The blacksmith raised his hammer, and rushed into the street, | |
| His ’prentice boys behind him, the ruthless foe to meet; | 10 |
| High on the breach of Limerick, with dauntless hearts they stood, | |
| Where bombshells burst, and shot fell thick, and redly ran the blood. | |
| |
| “Now look you, brown-haired Moran, and mark you, swarthy Ned, | |
| This day we ’ll prove the thickness of many a Dutchman’s head! | |
| Hurrah! upon their bloody path they ’re mounting gallantly; | 15 |
| And now the first that tops the breach, leave him to this and me!” | |
| |
| The first that gained the rampart, he was a captain brave,— | |
| A captain of the grenadiers, with blood-stained dirk and glaive; | |
| He pointed, and he parried, but it was all in vain, | |
| For fast through skull and helmet the hammer found his brain! | 20 |
| |
| The next that topped the rampart, he was a colonel bold, | |
| Bright, through the dust of battle, his helmet flashed with gold. | |
| “Gold is no match for iron,” the doughty blacksmith said, | |
| As with that ponderous hammer he cracked his foeman’s head. | |
| |
| “Hurrah for gallant Limerick!” black Ned and Moran cried, | 25 |
| As on the Dutchmen’s leaden heads their hammers well they plied. | |
| A bombshell burst between them,—one fell without a groan, | |
| One leaped into the lurid air and down the breach was thrown. | |
| |
| “Brave smith! brave smith!” cried Sarsfield, “beware the treacherous mine! | |
| Brave smith! brave smith! fall backward, or surely death is thine!” | 30 |
| The smith sprang up the rampart, and leaped the blood-stained wall, | |
| As high into the shuddering air went foemen, breach, and all! | |
| |
| Up, like a red volcano, they thundered wild and high, | |
| Spear, gun, and shattered standard, and foemen through the sky; | |
| And dark and bloody was the shower that round the blacksmith fell; | 35 |
| He thought upon his ’prentice boys,—they were avengéd well. | |
| |
| On foemen and defenders a silence gathered down; | |
| ’T was broken by a triumph-shout that shook the ancient town, | |
| As out its heroes sallied, and bravely charged and slew, | |
| And taught King William and his men what Irish hearts could do! | 40 |
| |
| Down rushed the swarthy blacksmith unto the river side; | |
| He hammered on the foe’s pontoon to sink it in the tide; | |
| The timber it was tough and strong, it took no crack or strain; | |
| “Mavrone! ’t won’t break,” the blacksmith roared; “I ’ll try their heads again!” | |
| |
| He rushed upon the flying ranks, his hammer ne’er was slack, | 45 |
| For in through blood and bone it crashed, through helmet and through jack;— | |
| He ’s ta’en a Holland captain, beside the red pontoon, | |
| And “Wait you here,” he boldly cries; “I ’ll send you back full soon! | |
| |
| “Dost see this gory hammer? It cracked some skulls to-day, | |
| And yours ’t will crack if you don’t stand and list to what I say: | 50 |
| Here! take it to your curséd king, and tell him softly too, | |
| ’T would be acquainted with his skull if he were here, not you!” | |
| |
| The blacksmith sought his smithy, and blew his bellows strong; | |
| He shod the steed of Sarsfield, but o’er it sang no song. | |
| “Ochone! my boys are dead,” he cried; “their loss I ’ll long deplore, | 55 |
| But comfort ’s in my heart,—their graves are red with foreign gore!” | |
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