Ivy Day In The Committee Room - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 5

`Right you are, Crofton!' said Mr Henchy fiercely. `He was the only man that could keep that bag of cats in order. "Down, ye dogs! Lie down, ye curs!" That's the way he treated them. Come in, Joe! Come in!' he called out, catching sight of Mr Hynes in the doorway.

Mr Hynes came in slowly.

`Open another bottle of stout, Jack,' said Mr Henchy. `O, I forgot there's no corkscrew! Here, show me one here and I'll put it at the fire.'

The old man handed him another bottle and he placed it on the hob.

`Sit down, Joe,' said Mr O'Connor, `we're just talking about the Chief.'

`Ay, ay!' said Mr Henchy.

Mr Hynes sat on the side of the table near Mr Lyons but said nothing.

`There's one of them, anyhow,' said Mr Henchy, `that didn't renege him. By God, I'll say for you, Joe! No, by God, you stuck to him like a man!'

`O, Joe,' said Mr O'Connor suddenly. `Give us that thing you wrote — do you remember? Have you got it on you?'

`O, ay!' said Mr Henchy. `Give us that. Did you ever hear that, Crofton? Listen to this now: splendid thing.'

`Go on,' said Mr O'Connor. `Fire away, Joe.'

Mr Hynes did not seem to remember at once the piece to which they were alluding, but, after reflecting a while, he said:

`O, that thing is it... Sure, that's old now.'

`Out with it, man!' said Mr O'Connor.

`'Sh, 'sh,' said Mr Henchy. `Now, Joe!'

Mr Hynes hesitated a little longer. Then amid the silence he took off his hat, laid it on the table and stood up. He seemed to be rehearsing the piece in his mind. After a rather long pause he announced:

THE DEATH OF PARNELL

6th October, 1891

He cleared his throat once or twice and then began to recite:

He is dead. Our Uncrowned King is dead.O, Erin, mourn with grief and woeFor he lies dead whom the fell gangOf modern hypocrites laid low.He lies slain by the coward houndsHe raised to glory from the mire;And Erin's hopes and Erin's dreamsPerish upon her monarch's pyre.In palace, cabin or in cotThe Irish heart where'er it beIs bowed with woe — for he is goneWho would have wrought her destiny.He would have had his Erin famed,The green flag gloriously unfurled,Her statesmen, bards, and warriors raisedBefore the nations of the World.He dreamed (alas, 'twas but a dream!)Of Liberty: but as he stroveTo clutch that idol, treacherySundered him from the thing he loved.Shame on the coward, caitiff handsThat smote their Lord or with a lossBetrayed him to the rabble-routOf fawning priests — no friends of his.May everlasting shame consumeThe memory of those who triedTo befoul and smear the exalted nameOf one who spurned them in his pride.He fell as fall the mighty ones,Nobly undaunted to the last,And death has now united himWith Erin's heroes of the past.No sound of strife disturb his sleep!Calmly he rests: no human painOr high ambition spurs him nowThe peaks of glory to attain.They had their way: they laid him low.But Erin, list, his spirit mayRise, like the Phoenix from the flames,When breaks the dawning of the day,The day that brings us Freedom's reign.And on that day may Erin wellPledge in the cup she lifts to JoyOne grief — the memory of Parnell.

Mr Hynes sat down again on the table. When he had finished his recitation there was a silence and then a burst of clapping: even Mr Lyons clapped. The applause continued for a little time. When it had ceased all the auditors drank from their bottles in silence.

Pok! The cork flew out of Mr Hynes' bottle, but Mr Hynes remained sitting flushed and bareheaded on the table. He did not seem to have heard the invitation.

`Good man, Joel' said Mr O'Connor, taking out his cigarette papers and pouch the better to hide his emotion.

`What do you think of that, Crofton?' cried Mr Henchy. `Isn't that fine? What?'

Mr Crofton said that it was a very fine piece of writing.