text:  Must it be for ever pronounced--that we are a frivolous and fickle race--that the Irishman remains a voluntary beggar with all the bounties of nature round him; unknown to fame with genius flashing from his eyes; humiliated with all the armoury of law and liberty open to his hands; and laughing laughing on when the only echo is from the chambers of the grave?" The orator dropped his head on his clasped hands as he spoke the words; and there was an universal silence for a while