LXXII.—THE WEXFORD MASSACRE.The Mayor and Governor offered to capitulate; but whilst their Commissioners were treating with Cromwell, an officer perfidiously opened the castle to the enemy; the adjacent wall was immediately scaled, and after a stubborn but unavailing resistance in the Marketplace, Wexford was abandoned to the mercy of the assailants. The tragedy so recently acted at Drogheda was renewed. No distinction was made between the defenceless inhabitants and the armed soldiers; nor could the shrieks and prayers of three hundred females, who had gathered around the great Cross, preserve them from these ruthless barbarians.—Lingard’s History of England: New York Edition, vol. 10, p. 297.
The Mayor and Governor offered to capitulate; but whilst their Commissioners were treating with Cromwell, an officer perfidiously opened the castle to the enemy; the adjacent wall was immediately scaled, and after a stubborn but unavailing resistance in the Marketplace, Wexford was abandoned to the mercy of the assailants. The tragedy so recently acted at Drogheda was renewed. No distinction was made between the defenceless inhabitants and the armed soldiers; nor could the shrieks and prayers of three hundred females, who had gathered around the great Cross, preserve them from these ruthless barbarians.—Lingard’s History of England: New York Edition, vol. 10, p. 297.
1. They knelt around the Cross divine,The matron and the maid—They bowed before redemption’s signAnd fervently they prayed—Three hundred fair and helpless ones,Whose crime was this alone—Their valiant husbands, sires, and sons,Had battled for their own.2. Had battled bravely, but in vain—The Saxon won the fight;And Irish corses strewed the plainWhere valor slept with Right.And now that man of demon guiltTo fated Wexford flew—The red blood reeking on his hilt,Of hearts to Erin true!3. He found them there—the young, the old—The maiden and the wife;Their guardians brave, in death were cold,Who dared forthemthe strife—They prayed for mercy. God on high!Before Thy cross they prayed,And ruthless Cromwell bade them dieTo glut the Saxon blade.4. Three hundred fell—the stifled prayerWas quenched in woman’s blood;Nor youth nor age could move to spareFrom slaughter’s crimson flood.But nations keep a stern accountOf deeds that tyrants do;And guiltless blood to Heaven will mount,And heaven avenge it too.
1. They knelt around the Cross divine,The matron and the maid—They bowed before redemption’s signAnd fervently they prayed—Three hundred fair and helpless ones,Whose crime was this alone—Their valiant husbands, sires, and sons,Had battled for their own.2. Had battled bravely, but in vain—The Saxon won the fight;And Irish corses strewed the plainWhere valor slept with Right.And now that man of demon guiltTo fated Wexford flew—The red blood reeking on his hilt,Of hearts to Erin true!3. He found them there—the young, the old—The maiden and the wife;Their guardians brave, in death were cold,Who dared forthemthe strife—They prayed for mercy. God on high!Before Thy cross they prayed,And ruthless Cromwell bade them dieTo glut the Saxon blade.4. Three hundred fell—the stifled prayerWas quenched in woman’s blood;Nor youth nor age could move to spareFrom slaughter’s crimson flood.But nations keep a stern accountOf deeds that tyrants do;And guiltless blood to Heaven will mount,And heaven avenge it too.
1. They knelt around the Cross divine,The matron and the maid—They bowed before redemption’s signAnd fervently they prayed—Three hundred fair and helpless ones,Whose crime was this alone—Their valiant husbands, sires, and sons,Had battled for their own.
1. They knelt around the Cross divine,
The matron and the maid—
They bowed before redemption’s sign
And fervently they prayed—
Three hundred fair and helpless ones,
Whose crime was this alone—
Their valiant husbands, sires, and sons,
Had battled for their own.
2. Had battled bravely, but in vain—The Saxon won the fight;And Irish corses strewed the plainWhere valor slept with Right.And now that man of demon guiltTo fated Wexford flew—The red blood reeking on his hilt,Of hearts to Erin true!
2. Had battled bravely, but in vain—
The Saxon won the fight;
And Irish corses strewed the plain
Where valor slept with Right.
And now that man of demon guilt
To fated Wexford flew—
The red blood reeking on his hilt,
Of hearts to Erin true!
3. He found them there—the young, the old—The maiden and the wife;Their guardians brave, in death were cold,Who dared forthemthe strife—They prayed for mercy. God on high!Before Thy cross they prayed,And ruthless Cromwell bade them dieTo glut the Saxon blade.
3. He found them there—the young, the old—
The maiden and the wife;
Their guardians brave, in death were cold,
Who dared forthemthe strife—
They prayed for mercy. God on high!
Before Thy cross they prayed,
And ruthless Cromwell bade them die
To glut the Saxon blade.
4. Three hundred fell—the stifled prayerWas quenched in woman’s blood;Nor youth nor age could move to spareFrom slaughter’s crimson flood.But nations keep a stern accountOf deeds that tyrants do;And guiltless blood to Heaven will mount,And heaven avenge it too.
4. Three hundred fell—the stifled prayer
Was quenched in woman’s blood;
Nor youth nor age could move to spare
From slaughter’s crimson flood.
But nations keep a stern account
Of deeds that tyrants do;
And guiltless blood to Heaven will mount,
And heaven avenge it too.