SEARC'S WEB GUIDE - Stephen Joseph Meany (1825-1888)

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Searc's Web Guide to 19th Century Ireland - Stephen Joseph Meany (1825-1888)

Stephen Joseph Meany was born in County Clare. He published his first poetry collection Shreds of Fancy in 1841. Meany became a journalist with The Freeman's Journal and joined the Young Ireland movement in 1845. He partook in the 1848 Rising and was imprisoned for a year. On his release he emigrated to Liverpool where he became the first President of the English Press Association.
In 1860 Meany emigrated to America where he published and edited The Commercial newspaper in Toledo, Ohio. He returned to England in 1867 and was imprisoned for fifteen years in various English gaols for expressing Fenian sympathies. On his release Meany returned to America where he died in 1888.©

Stephen Joseph Meany (1825-1888)

To Erin
'You call this weakness; it is strength
I say - the parent of all honest feeling
He that loves not his country can love nothing.'
Byron

The gloom of grief and sorrow is around thee -
Thy shores re-echo with thy children's cries -
The chain which long in slavery hath bound thee,
Its harsh dominion still doth exercise;
The wails of orphans from thy glens arise,
For there Plague rests on his destroying wing,
Drinking the tears which flow from widow's eyes,
Laughing to scorn their horrid suffering
While famine and despair their tortured bosoms wring.

Yet, oh! My Country, still within my soul
I love thee dearer for thy very woe;
And scalding tears I try not to control,
from eyes not wont to weep, for thee will flow;
As woman's fondness more intense will grow,
When her heart's chosen is by all oppressed,
E'vn tho' he turn on her as on a foe,
The closer will she take him to her breast -
The whole world spurns him but by her he is caressed.

And green isle of my heart, I fondly hope
That better days are still in store for thee,
That freedom will her glorious portals ope.
While thousands hail the wished for - just decree:
Then famine from my country's shores shall flee
And joy and rapture take the place of gloom -
While millions cry - We're free! We're free! We're free!
And even wretches sinking to their tomb
Shall rise and shout before they meet their final doom.
© Searc's Web Guide 1997-2007

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