‘Ode Triumphal’ by Canon Sheehan

Poetry

Oct 8

Sing thy triumph to the nations, O my country! in thy glory;

Now thy feet are winged with victory, and swiftly bear thee on;

And thy children fear no longer

Shadowy past or dim hereafter,

For the winds are light with laughter

And the days are bright with song

In thy bosom, O my country! are the fairest flowers unfolding,

Every lifted cloud of sorrow falls in flowing light on thee,

For thy faith at length availeth,

And thy love-smile still unbroken

Sways each present sign and token

As the sea-wind sways the sea.

III

Thou art clothed, O my country! in the garments of thy gladness,

And I see no armour round thee, nor the shining light of steel,

For in peace thy ways are woven,

And thy strength is sphered in duty,

Showing the divinest beauty

That a nation can reveal.

And thy banners, O my country I bring no war

clouds, nor the tempest —

Softly float they on the fair winds flowing from the

vault of blue,

Flaming ancient signs and holy

Of the brave ones gone before us,

And the wild winds wave a chorus

To their glories sweet and true.

And thy future, O my country! shall it grow in gathering’ splendour?

Shall thy martyred priests' and patriots' blood make fertile fields for thee?

Keep thy memories fair and fragrant.

And thy valour’s ancient glory,

Folded now in song and story

Long will bloom in liberty.

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