Still less were they forgotten at home. Throughout the Irish land,
from Antrim's rocky coast to the foam-beaten headlands of Cork, the
hearts of their countrymen were convulsed with passionate grief and
indignation, and, blended with the sharp cry of agony that broke from
the nation's lips, came the murmurs of defiant hatred, and the pledges
of a bitter vengeance. Never, for generations, had the minds of the
Irish people been more profoundly agitated--never had they writhed
in such bitterness and agony of soul. With knitted brows and burning
cheeks, the tidings of the bloody deed were listened to. The names of
the martyred men were upon every lip, and the story of their heroism
and tragic death was read with throbbing pulse and kindling eyes
by every fireside in the land. It is to assist in perpetuating that
story, and in recording for future generations the narrative which
tells of how Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin died, that this narrative is
written, and few outside the nation whose hands are red with their
blood, will deny that at least so much recognition is due to their
courage, their patriotism, and their fidelity. In Ireland we know it
will be welcomed; amongst a people by whom chivalry and patriotism are
honoured, a story so touching and so enobling will not be despised;
and the race which guards with reverence and devotion the memories
of Tone, and Emmett, and the Shearses, will not soon surrender to
oblivion the memory of the three true-hearted patriots, who, heedless
of the scowling mob, unawed by the hangman's grasp, died bravely that
Saturday morning at Manchester, for the good old cause of Ireland.
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