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The Rebel
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Dubliners
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I am come of the seed of the people, the people that sorrow;
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Who have no treasure but hope,
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No riches laid up but a memory of an ancient glory
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My mother bore me in bondage, in bondage my mother was born,
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I am of the blood of serfs;
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The children with whom I have played, the men and women with whom I have eaten
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Have had masters over them, have been under the lash of masters,
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and though gentle, have served churls.
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The hands that have touched mine,
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the dear hands whose touch Is familiar to me
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Have worn shameful manacles, have been bitten at the wrist by manacles,
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have grown hard with the manacles and the task-work of strangers.
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I am flesh of the flesh of these lowly, I am bone of their bone I that have never submitted;
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I that have a soul greater than the souls of my people's masters,
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I that have vision and prophecy, and the gift of fiery speech,
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I that have spoken with God on the top of his holy hill.
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And because I am of the people, I understand the people,
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I am sorrowful with their sorrow, I am hungry with their desire;
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My heart is heavy with the grief of mothers,
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My eyes have been wet with the tears of children,
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I have yearned with old wistful men,
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And laughed and cursed with young men;
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Their shame is my shame, and I have reddened for it
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Reddened for that they have served, they who should be free
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Reddened for that they have gone in want, while others have been full,
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Reddened for that they have walked in fear of lawyers and their jailors.
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With their Writs of Summons and their handcuffs,
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Men mean and cruel.
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I could have borne stripes on my body
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Rather than this shame of my people.
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And now I speak, being full of vision:
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I speak to my people, and I speak in my people's name to
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The masters of my people:
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I say to my people that they are holy,
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That they are august despite their chains.
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That they are greater than those that hold them
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And stronger and purer,
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That they have but need of courage, and to call on the name of their God,
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God the unforgetting, the dear God who loves the people
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For whom he died naked, suffering shame.
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And I say to my people's masters: Beware
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Beware of the thing that is coming, beware of the risen people
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Who shall take what ye would not give.
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Did ye think to conquer the people, or that law is stronger than life,
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And than men's desire to be free?
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We will try it out with you ye that have harried and held,
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Ye that have bullied and bribed.
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Tyrants... hypocrites... liars!
The Fields of Athenry - The Dubliners & ...
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