Дублинцы

           Hynesdidnotseemtorememberatoncethepiecetowhichtheywerealluding,but,afterreflectingawhile,hesaid:

           “O,thatthingisit....Sure,that’soldnow.”

           “Outwithit,man!”saidMr.O’Connor.

           “‘Sh,‘sh,”saidMr.Henchy.“Now,Joe!”

           Mr.Hyneshesitatedalittlelonger.Thenamidthesilencehetookoffhishat,laiditonthetableandstoodup.Heseemedtoberehearsingthepieceinhismind.Afteraratherlongpauseheannounced:

           THEDEATHOFPARNELL

           6thOctober,1891

           Heclearedhisthroatonceortwiceandthenbegantorecite:

           Heisdead.OurUncrownedKingisdead.

           O,Erin,mournwithgriefandwoe

           Forheliesdeadwhomthefellgang

           Ofmodernhypocriteslaidlow.

           Heliesslainbythecowardhounds

           Heraisedtogloryfromthemire;

           AndErin’shopesandErin’sdreams

           Perishuponhermonarch’spyre.

           Inpalace,cabinorincot

           TheIrishheartwhere’eritbe

           Isbowedwithwoe—forheisgone

           Whowouldhavewroughtherdestiny.

           HewouldhavehadhisErinfamed,

           Thegreenflaggloriouslyunfurled,

           Herstatesmen,bardsandwarriorsraised

           BeforethenationsoftheWorld.