Tear out the page his hand hath writ in blood

"Tear out the page his hand hath writ in blood." Aye! tho' a decade filled with mighty deeds That page records; what though in it the seeds Of greater freedom sprung, than ever stood On any shore, to shadow freedom's brood. The lordly oak from which a fleet proceeds May fall unhonoured; can mere party needs Fill your hands too, with this consenting mud? We Irishmen found only shade to die Within the shadow of that mighty tree; But you base Englishmen it bore on high, And girt your commerce safe on many a sea: O! may the people Cromwell taught, deny Your right within these walls, and turn the key!