Thomas Osborne Davis

Thomas Osborne Davis was an Irish writer, poet, and politician who is best known as the chief organizer of the Young Ireland movement. He was born on October 14, 1814, in Mallow, County Cork, Ireland, and played a significant role in promoting Irish nationalism. Davis was a prolific writer who contributed greatly to Irish literature and national identity. He passed away at a young age of 30 due to scarlet fever on September 16, 1845.

October 14, 1814

September 16, 1845

English

The Boatman Of Kinsale

His kiss is sweet, his word is kind,
His love is rich to me;
I could not in a palace find
A truer heart than he.
The eagle shelters not his nest
From hurricane and hail
More bravely than he guards my breast
The Boatman of Kinsale.

The wind that round the Fastnet sweeps
Is not a whit more pure,
The goat that down Cnoc Sheehy leaps
Has not a foot more sure.
No firmer hand nor freer eye
Eer faced an autumn gale,
De Courcys heart is not so high
The Boatman of Kinsale.

The brawling squires may heed him not,
The dainty stranger sneer,
But who will dare to hurt our cot
When Myles OHea is here?
The scarlet soldiers pass along:
Theyd like, but fear to rail:
His blood is hot, his blow is strong
The Boatman of Kinsale.

Thomas Osborne Davis

The Geraldines

I

The Geraldines! The Geraldines! 'tis full a thousand years
Since, 'mid the Tuscan vineyards, bright flashed their
battle-spears;
When Capet seized the crown of France, their iron shields were known,
And their sabre dint struck terror on the banks of the Garonne;
Across the downs of Hastings they spurred hard by William's side,
And the grey sands of Palestine with Moslem blood they dyed;
But never then, nor thence till now, has falsehood or disgrace
Been seen to soil Fitzgerald's plume, or mantle in his face.

II

The Geraldines! The Geraldines! 'tis true, in Strongbow's van,
By lawless force, as conquerors, their Irish reign began;
And, O! through many a dark campaign they proved their prowess stern,
In Leinster's plains, and Munster's vales, on king, ...

Thomas Osborne Davis

The Sack Of Baltimore

The summer sun is falling soft on Carberys hundred isles,
The summer sun is gleaming still through Gabriels rough defiles;
Old Innisherkins crumbled fane looks like a moulting bird,
And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard:
The hookers lie upon the beach; the children cease their play;
The gossips leave the little inn; the households kneel to pray;
And full of love, and peace, and rest, its daily labor oer,
Upon that cosy creek there lay the town of Baltimore.

A deeper rest, a starry trance, has come with midnight there;
No sound, except that throbbing wave, in earth, or sea, or air!
The massive capes and ruind towers seem conscious of the calm;
The fibrous sod and stunted trees are breathing heavy balm.
So still the night, these two long barques round Du...

Thomas Osborne Davis

The Welcome

Come in the evening, or come in the morning;
Come when you re lookd for, or come without warning:
Kisses and welcome you ll find here before you,
And the oftener you come here the more I ll adore you!
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;
Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;
The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,
And the linnets are singing, True lovers dont sever!

I ll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them,
Or, after youve kissd them, they ll lie on my bosom;
I ll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you;
I ll fetch from my fancy a tale that wont tire you.
Oh! your steps like the rain to the summer-vexd farmer,
Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor;
I ll sing you sweet songs till t...

Thomas Osborne Davis