Songs & poems of the rebels who fought and died for Ireland in Easter week

An anthology edited by E.G.B, Published in honor of those who died and those who were incarcerated. The collection includes: We shall rise again, Easter 1916/James Connolly--The Wayfarer/P.H.Pearse – ‘the remaining contributions, many of which are not published elsewhere, are unsigned’.

Details

Level of description: Item
Date: c.1917
Reference: 3
Extent and medium: 58 pp; Printed
Scope and content: An anthology edited by E.G.B, Published in honor of those who died and those who were incarcerated. The collection includes: We shall rise again, Easter 1916/James Connolly--The Wayfarer/P.H.Pearse – ‘the remaining contributions, many of which are not published elsewhere, are unsigned’.
Physical characteristics: In yellow paper wrappers printed in green and gold.
Repository: Irish Capuchin Archives
Context: Irish Capuchin Archives > Capuchin Papers relating to the Irish Revolution > The Papers of Fr. Albert Bibby OFM Cap. > Commemorative and Souvenir Publications

Annotations

Rights

Rights: Copyright held by the respective institution. Contact the archive for reproduction permissions.

Extracted Mentions

People, places, and terms identified via handwriting recognition and named entity recognition.

People

May(39)
Grace(11)
Little(11)
Plunkett(9)
Long(9)
Green(9)
Thomas(7)
ENGLISH(7)

Places

Howth(10)
Richmond(4)
Walls(3)
Loaf(3)
Rush(2)
Clay(2)
Ardour(2)
Bloody(2)

Terms

Sample passages

Patrick H. Pearse, shot, Wednesday, May 3rd.
Thomas MacDonagh, shot Wednesday, May 3rd.
Thomas J. Clarke, shot, Wednesday, May 3rd.

Full Transcript (OCR, 29 pages)

Machine-generated OCR transcript. Handwritten material may contain recognition errors.

Page 1

• OF • THE REBELS WHO FOUGHT AND DIED For Ireland In Easter Week, 1916

Page 2

Grief for the noble dead Of one who did not share their strife, End mourned that any blood was shed . . . Yet felt the broken glory of their state— Their strange heroic questioning of fate: Ribbon with go'd, the rags of this our life. E. G. B.

Page 3

IN MEMORIAM. —*— Patrick H. Pearse, shot, Wednesday, May 3rd. Thomas MacDonagh, shot Wednesday, May 3rd. Thomas J. Clarke, shot, Wednesday, May 3rd. Joseph Plunkett, shot, Thursday, May 4th. Edward Daly, shot, Thursday, May 4th. Michael O'Hanrahan, shot, Thursday, May 4th. William Pearse, shot, Thursday, May 4th. John MacBride, shot, Friday, May 5th. Cornelius Colbert, shot, Monday, May 8th. Eamonn Ceannt, shot, Monday, May 8th. Richard Kent, shot, Tuesday, May 2nd, at Castle-lyons. Michael Mallin, shot, Monday May 8th. J. J. Heuston, shot, Monday, May 8th. James Connolly, shot, Tuesday, May 9th. John MacDermott, shot, Tuesday, May 9th. Thomas Kent, shot, Tuesday, May 9th, in Cork. Requiescant in pace.

Page 4

A TRIBUTE. Sentenced to death, sentence commuted to penal servitude for life:— Constance Georgina Markievicz, Tromas Hunter, William Cosgrave, Henry O'Hanrahan, Edward de Valera, Thomas Ashe, John MacNeill, Patrick Fahy, And sixty-five others, whose sentences were commuted to definite periods of imprisonment in penal servitude. THE DEAD WHO DIED FOR IRELAND. Dead! said the grey mother crooming At night, by the flickering fire; Dead! said the shuddering children, And clung to the knees of their sire. Dead! oh, abhorred consummation! Oh, God! give us grace to forgive! Not dead! cried the storm o'er the housetops, Forever they live. Pale student with grey shaded eyebrows, And lips white and rigid as death, Behold in the knout and the coffin, The emblems of hope and of faith. These graves in a vile British prison, Where never shall bloom flower or leaf, These graves, they're the seed of a triumph— Our trust, our belief. Had they died for a deed, they were noble, Having died for the bruth, they are great, Proud hearts, that beat hottest and noblest— Don't mourn, don't mourn their fate. We were told we were dead as a nation, A corpse, with its face to the sky, Objectless, powerless, hopeless, They gave it the lie. And their blood to confession was witness; Their deaths were the seal of their creed, Translating the vision of ages, In actual substance and deed. They fell, but they fell as befits them— They died the death of brave men, Did they leap from their ashes to morrow, They'd act so again. They proved it—they proved to our masters The truth that too long was unfelt, No dungeon can hold or extinguish The fire and the soul of the Calt, Twas seen in the white face of London— Twas seen in the wild unrepose; Those men stirred the land like an earthquake, And great men were those.

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