Austin Clarke is a well known and respected Irish writer of the recent past.
Perhaps his lines written on the burial of Dr Douglas Hyde, first Irish President, are appropriate at this time – especially in the light of recent articles posted here on Newry Journal.
Perhaps even, the combatants on the ‘Irish Shame’ Thread will read this and disavow ‘the integrity of their quarrel’.
‘The tolling from St Patrick’s
Cathedral was brangled, repeating
Itself in top-back room
And alley of the Coome,
Crowding the dirty streets,
Upbraiding all our pat tricks.
Tricoloured and beflowered,
Coffin of our President,
Where fifty mourners bowed,
Was trestled in the gloom
Of arch and monument,
Beyond the desperate tomb
Of Swift. Imperial flags,
Corunna, Quatre Bras,
Inkermann,
Their pride turning to rags,
Drooped, smoke-thin as the booming
Of cannon. The simple word
From heaven was vaulted, stirred
By candles. At the last bench
Two Catholics, the French
Ambassador and I, knelt down.
The vergers waited. Outside.
The hush of
Professors of cap and gown,
Costello, his Cabinet,
In Government cars, hiding
Around the corner, ready
Tall hat in hand, dreading
Our Father in English. Better
Not hear that ‘which’ for ‘who’
And risk eternal doom.