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Updated: June 15, 2025
But Christianity did not win England without a struggle. After the death of Ethelbert and Edwin, paganism revived and fought hard for the mastery. The Roman monks lost their energy, and were confined to the vicinity of Canterbury. Conversion came again, but from the west instead of the east, from Ireland instead of Rome. Christianity had been received with enthusiasm in Erin's isle.
I am sure that I shall live longer than the British Constitution. After the verdict had been returned against Colonel Warren, Augustine E. Costello was put on his trial, charged with the same offence that of having formed cne of the invading party who landed from the "Erin's Hope," in the neighbourhood of Dungarvan.
By that time it was found that the chances of another Rising were but slender, and the "Erin's Hope" returned to America with her cargo, entirely unmolested by the British cruisers, which were plentiful enough around the Irish coast.
You pretty boys from green Erin's Isle are too apt to do things in a hurry to knock a fellow down, and then to ask his pardon, on finding that he wasn't the man you intended to floor; like the Irish soldier officer who declared that anchovies grew on the walls of Gibraltar, and when he had shot his friend for doubting his statement, recollected that it was capers he meant."
Nothing but Joe Stewart's flawless reputation for veracity could have induced the Comstock to accept the account of Old Erin's visit to camp, which broke up the trip, as it was given by the hunters when they returned. Mr.
Life those chaps out there must have, stuck in the same spot. Irish Lights board. Penance for their sins. Coastguards too. Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old papers. Bears in the zoo. Filthy trip. Drunkards out to shake up their livers. Puking overboard to feed the herrings. Nausea.
"Mournful is the news to the Gael!" exclaims the elegiac Bard! "Red wine is spilled into the valley! Erin's monarch has died!" And the lament contrasts his stately form as "he rode the white stallion," with the striking reverse when, "his only horse this day" that is the bier on which his body was borne to the churchyard "is drawn behind two oxen."
Across the hall, the walls whereof were lavishly decked with red, white, and blue festoons of cambric, and had the green and gold of Erin's flag intertwined with the yellow and black of Germany, stood a table which had been the centre of interest for four nights, but which now was entirely deserted. The sign simply demanded, "Vote Here!"
'All the same, Beauchamp, she ought not to be allowed to go about at night with that fellow. "Rich and rare were the gems she wore": but that was in Erin's isle, and if we knew the whole history, she'd better have stopped at home. She's marvellously pretty, to my mind. She looks a high-bred wench. Odd it is, Beauchamp, to see a lady's-maid now and then catch the style of my lady. No, by Jove!
Bold warriors of Erin, I hereby proclaim, That the world never witness'd your rivals in fame; Bold sons of Macmurraugh, Macarthy, O'Neill, The armies of earth at your sight would turn pale. A flash from your eyes would light England's last pile, And a touch give her sceptre to Erin's green isle.
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