HIBERNIA

Here the writer has been in Argentina for two years “though they like centuries appear.” Hibernia fits hand in glove with the Irish air “Kingwilliamstown.”  'Hibernia' is Ireland in the Latin language. 

Just now two years have pass'd and gone though they like centuries appear 

Since, sad, forlorn, and alone I sail'd from Ireland dear 

though I ne'er may see it more my thoughts long languish o’er, 

Can I forget my childhood's home my own loved Hibernia's shore?

When standing at my rancho door or riding o'er the pampa plain

I silently, long to hear the sweet voices of her labouring swain,  

Though the pampas may have fields  as fair and green all o'er

To me there is no soil that yields like my own Hibernia's shore. 

I long to see her native groves where oft' I've chased the bounding hare

And snar'd the woodcock and the doves, listened to the cuckoo's voice so clear 

Oh! had I but eagle's wings across the Atlantic I would soar,

I'd think no more on earthly things 'til safe upon Hibernia's shore. 

Oh could I cope with bards of yore
I'd proudly write in words sublime


The praises of her fertile shore
while life stands in her youthful prime


For when I'm sinking towards the tomb
my feeble hand can trace no more


The words I'd write of that dear home my owned loved Hibernia's shore

Though there are comforts, beyond La Plata's mouth, where the Indian once did freely roam,

Still I'd forsake the pleasures of the South for my own dear native home 

Old Erin for thee this heart is weap'd in grief a heart that's Irish to the core


Long may I love the shamrock leaf
that grows round Hibernia's shore. 

J. J. M.

El Monitor de la Campaña N° 43, Capilla del Señor, 15 April 1872