1= Lands reserved for the Irish. "To Hell or to Connacht"- Cromwell. 2= Four Counties given up in 1654 as payment to the Munster garrison. 3= Seven counties, additional security to soldiers. 4= Ten counties divided between the Adventurers* and the soldiers. 5= Four counties reserved by the English government. 6= County Louth, additional security to the Adventurers*. 7= Parts of Connacht subsequently taken from what was reserved for the Irish as additional security to the soldiers who had fought in England during the English Civil War. 1650
Members of the Orange Order commemmorating, recently, the Battle of the Boyne
"To subvert the tyranny of our execrable government, to break the connection with England, the never-failing source of all our political evils and to assert the independence of my country- these were my objectives. To unite the whole people of Ireland, to abolish the memory of all past dissensions, and to substitute the common name of Irishman in place of the denominations of Protestant, Catholic and Dissenter - these were my means."- Theobald Wolfe Tone “Our freedom must be had at all hazards. If the men of property will not help us they must fall; we will free ourselves by the aid of that large and respectable class of the community - the men of no property.” - Theobald Wolfe Tone
A statue to Wolfe Tone, a leading figure in the 1798 Rebellion
A statue of Daniel O Connell, nicknamed « the liberator » by his supporters, outside St Patrick’s Cathedral in Melbourne, Australia
A memorial to the great famine of the 1850s, in Dublin
Weary men, what reap ye? Golden corn for the stranger. What sow ye? Human corpses that wait for the avenger. Fainting forms, Hunger—stricken, what see you in the offing Stately ships to bear our food away, amid the stranger's scoffing. There's a proud array of soldiers—what do they round your door? They guard our master's granaries from the thin hands of the poor. Pale mothers, wherefore weeping? 'Would to God that we were dead— Our children swoon before us, and we cannot give them bread. Extract from a poem by Jane Francesca Agnes
By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young girl calling Michael, they are taking you away, For you stole Trevelyan's corn, So the young might see the morn. Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay. Low lie the fields of Athenry Where once we watched the small free birds fly Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry. By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young man calling Nothing matters, Mary, when you're free Against the famine and the Crown, I rebelled, they cut me down. Now you must raise our child with dignity.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountain side The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying 'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide. But come ye back when summer's in the meadow Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow 'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.