ildhood kem over him there,
As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air;
An' happy rememberances crowding on ever,
As fast as the foam-flakes dhrift down on the river,
Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by,
Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye.
But the tears didn't fall, for the pride of his heart
Would not suffer _one_ drop down his pale cheek to start;
Then he sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave,
An' he swore with the fierceness that misery gave,
By the hopes of the good, an' the cause of the brave,
That when he was mouldering low in the grave
His enemies never should have it to boast
His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost;
His bosom might bleed, but his cheek should be dhry,
For, undaunted he _lived_, and undaunted he'd _die_.

Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone,
The terrible day iv the thrial kem on;
There _was sich_ a crowd there was scarce room to stand,
The sodgers on guard, the dhragoons sword-in-hand.
An' the court-house so full that the people were bothered.
Attorneys an' criers were just upon smothered;
An' counsellers almost gev over for dead.
The jury sat up in their box overhead;
An' the judge on the bench so detarmined an' big,
With his gown on his back, and an illigent wig;
Then silence was called, and the minute 'twas said
The court was as still as the heart of the dead,
An' they heard but the turn of a key in a lock,--
An' Shamus O'Brien kem into the dock.--

For a minute he turned his eye round on the throng,
An' he looked at the irons, so firm and so strong,
An' he saw that he had not a hope nor a friend,
A chance of escape, nor a word to defend;
Then he folded his arms as he stood there alone,
As calm and as cold as a statue of stone;
And they read a big writin', a yard long at laste,
An' Jim didn't hear it, nor mind it a taste,
An' the judge took a big pinch iv snuff, and he says,
"Are you guilty or not, Jim O'Brien, av you plase?"
An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread
As Shamus O'Brien made answer and said:

"My lord, if you ask me, if ever a time
I have thought any treason, or done any crime
That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here,
The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear,
Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow,
Before God and the world I would