SONG.


"Ho, boys, I have a song divine!
Come, let us now in concert join,
And toast the bonny banks of Boyne--The Boyne of 'Glorious Memory.'

"On Boyne's famed banks our fathers bled;
Boyne's surges with their blood ran red;
And from the Boyne our foemen fled--Intolerance, chains, and slavery.

"Dark superstition's blood-stained sons
Pressed on, but 'crack' went William's guns,
And soon the gloomy monster runs--Fell, hydra-headed bigotry.

"Then fill your glasses high and fair,
Let shouts of triumph rend the air,
Whilst Georgy fills the regal chair
We'll never bow to Popery."


Jack, whose countenance had, from the commencement of the song,
indicated his aversion to the sentiments it expressed, now lost
all patience at hearing his darling "Popery" impugned, and, seizing
one of the pistols which lay on the table and whirling it over his
comrade's head, swore vehemently that he would "fracture his skull
if he did not instantly drop that blackguard Orange lampoon."

"Aisy, avhic," said Harry, quietly pushing away the upraised arm;
"I did not oppose your bit of treason awhile ago, and besides,