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<title type="uniform">The Geraldines</title>
<title type="gmd">an electronic edition</title>
<author>Thomas Osborne Davis</author>
<editor id="TWR">T. W. Rolleston</editor>
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<date>2011</date>
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<bibl n="1">First published in the <emph>Nation</emph>.</bibl>
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<head>Other writings by Thomas Davis</head>
<bibl n="1">Thomas Davis, Essays Literary and Historical, ed. by D. J. O'Donoghue, Dundalk 1914.</bibl>
<bibl n="2">Sir Charles Gavan Duffy (ed.), Thomas Davis, the memoirs of an Irish patriot, 1840-1846. 1890. [Reprinted entitled 'Thomas Davis' with an introduction of Brendan Clifford. Millstreet, Aubane Historical Society,  2000.]</bibl>
<bibl n="3">Thomas Davis: selections from his prose and poetry. [Edited] with an introduction by T. W. Rolleston.  London and Leipzig: T. Fisher Unwin (Every Irishman's Library). 1910. [Published in Dublin by the Talbot press, 1914.]</bibl>
<bibl n="4">Thomas Osborne Davis, Literary and historical essays 1846. Reprinted 1998, Washington, DC: Woodstock Books.</bibl>
<bibl n="5">Essays of Thomas Davis. New York, Lemma Pub. Corp. 1974, 1914 [Reprint of the 1914 ed. published by W. Tempest, Dundalk, Ireland, under the title 'Essays literary and historical'.]</bibl>
<bibl n="6">Thomas Davis: essays and poems, with a centenary memoir, 1845-1945. Dublin, M.H. Gill and Son, 1945. [Foreword by an Taoiseach, &Eacute;amon de Valera.]</bibl>
<bibl n="7">Angela Clifford, Godless colleges and mixed education in Ireland: extracts from speeches and writings of Thomas Wyse, Daniel O'Connell, Thomas Davis, Charles Gavan Duffy, Frank Hugh O'Donnell and others. Belfast: Athol, 1992.</bibl>
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<date>[1910]</date>
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<creation>by Thomas Davis
<date>1840s</date>
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<date>1996</date>
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<head>The Geraldines</head>
<lg n="1" type="stanza">
<l>The Geraldines! The Geraldines!&mdash;'tis full a thousand years</l>
<l>Since, 'mid the Tuscan vineyards, bright flashed their battle-spears;</l>
<l>When Capet seized the crown of France, their iron shields were known,</l>
<l>And their sabre-dint struck terror on the banks of the Garonne:</l>
<l>Across the downs of Hastings they spurred hard by William's side,</l>
<l>And the grey sands of Palestine with Moslem blood they dyed;</l>
<l>But never then, nor thence till now, has falsehood or disgrace</l>
<l>Been seen to soil Fitzgerald's plume, or mantle in his face.</l></lg>

<pb n="307"/>
<lg n="2">
<l>The Geraldines! The Geraldines!&mdash;'tis true, in Strongbow's van,</l>
<l>By lawless force, as conquerors, their Irish reign began;</l>
<l>And, oh! through many a dark campaign they proved their prowess stern,</l>
<l>In Leinster's plains, and Munster's vales, on king, and chief, and kerne;</l>
<l>But noble was the cheer within the halls so rudely won,</l>
<l>And generous was the steel-gloved hand that had such slaughter done;</l>
<l>How gay their laugh, how proud their mien, you'd ask no herald's sign&mdash;</l>
<l>Among a thousand you had known the princely Geraldine.</l></lg>

<lg n="3">
<l>These Geraldines! These Geraldines!&mdash;not long our air they breathed;</l>
<l>Not long they fed on venison, in Irish water seethed;</l>
<l>Not often had their children been by Irish mothers nursed;</l>
<l>When from their full and genial hearts an Irish feeling burst!</l>
<l>The English monarchs strove in vain, by law, and force, and bribe,</l>
<l>To win from Irish thoughts and ways this <q>more than Irish</q> tribe;</l>
<l>For still they clung to fosterage, to <term lang="ga">breitheamh</term><note type="auth" n="1">Angl. Brehon.</note>, cloak, and bard:</l>
<l>What king dare say to Geraldine, <q>Your Irish wife discard</q>?</l></lg>

<pb n="308"/>
<lg n="4">
<l>Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!&mdash;How royally ye reigned</l>
<l>O'er Desmond broad and rich Kildare, and English arts disdained:</l>
<l>Your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was your bugle call</l>
<l>By Gleann's green slopes, and Daingean's tide, from Bearbha's banks to Eochaill.</l>
<l>What gorgeous shrines, what <term lang="ga">breitheamh</term> lore, what minstrel feasts there were</l>
<l>In and around Magh Nuadhaid's keep, and palace-filled Adare!</l>
<l>But not for rite or feast ye stayed, when friend or kin were pressed;</l>
<l>And foeman fled when <q lang="ga">Crom-abu</q><note type="auth" n="1">Formerly the war-cry of the Geraldines, and now their motto.</note> bespoke your lance in rest.</l></lg>

<lg n="5">
<l>Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!&mdash;since Silken Thomas flung</l>
<l>King Henry's sword on council board, the English thanes among,</l>
<l>Ye never ceased to battle brave against the English sway,</l>
<l>Though axe and brand and treachery your proudest cut away.</l>
<l>Of Desmond's blood through woman's veins passed on th' exhausted tide;</l>
<l>His title lives&mdash;a <term lang="ga">Sacsanach</term> churl usurps the lion's hide;</l>
<l>And though Kildare tower haughtily, there's ruin at the root,</l>
<l>Else why, since Edward fell to earth, had such a tree no fruit?</l></lg>

<pb n="309"/>
<lg n="6">
<l>True Geraldines! Brave Geraldines!&mdash;as torrents mould the earth,</l>
<l>You channeled deep old Ireland's heart by constancy and worth:</l>
<l>When Ginckle 'leaguered Limerick, the Irish soldiers gazed</l>
<l>To see if the setting sun dead Desmond's banner blazed!</l>
<l>And still it is the peasant's hope upon the Cuirreach's mere,</l>
<l><q>They live, who'll see ten thousand men with good Lord Edward here.</q>&mdash;</l>
<l>So let them dream till brighter days, when, not by Edward's shade,</l>
<l>But by some leader true as he, their lines shall be arrayed!</l></lg>

<lg n="7">
<l>These Geraldines! These Geraldines!&mdash;rain wears away the rock</l>
<l>And time may wear away the tribe that stood the battle's shock;</l>
<l>But ever, sure, while one is left of all that honoured race,</l>
<l>In front of Ireland's chivalry is that Fitzgerald's place:</l>
<l>And though the last were dead and gone, how many a field and town,</l>
<l>From Thomas Court to Abbeyfeile, would cherish their renown!</l>
<l>And men will say of valour's rise, or ancient power's decline,</l>
<l><q>'T will never soar, it never shone, as did the Geraldine.</q></l></lg>

<pb n="310"/>
<lg n="8">
<l>The Geraldines! the Geraldines!&mdash;and are there any fears</l>
<l>Within the sons of conquerors for full a thousand years?</l>
<l>Can treason spring from out a soil bedewed with martyr's blood?</l>
<l>Or has that grown a purling brook which long rushed down a flood?&mdash;</l>
<l>By Desmond swept with sword and fire&mdash;by clan and keep laid low&mdash;</l>
<l>By Silken Thomas and his kin,&mdash;by sainted Edward! No!</l>
<l>The forms of centuries rise up, and in the Irish line</l>
<l>Command their son to take the post that fits the Geraldine!</l></lg>
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