Up the Rebels!

As a quite positive coincidence I’m surprised to dicover that this post will by my 100^th post (although only 88 are published so far) at the Dublin Correspondnet , and which day could be more suitable for this little anniversary?

April 24^th, 12:00...1916. Connolly and Pearse had some enquires by the an Post in Sackville Street, their comrades in the Republican Brotherhood, Citizen Army, Fianna hÉireann and the Hibernian Rifles joins them and Dublin, the Starry Plough, the Anglo-Irish relations, and the Island of Ireland, described with W.B Yeats’s words, was never the same again.

Too long a sacrifice

Can make a stone of the heart.

O when may it suffice?

That is heaven's part, our part

To murmur name upon name,

As a mother names her child

When sleep at last has come

On limbs that had run wild.

What is it but nightfall?

No, no, not night but death;

Was it needless death after all?

For England may keep faith

For all that is done and said.

We know their dream; enough

To know they dreamed and are dead.

And what if excess of love

Bewildered them till they died?

I write it out in a verse --

MacDonagh and MacBride

And Connolly and Pearse

Now and in time to be,

Wherever green is worn,

Are changed, changed utterly:

A terrible beauty is born.

But, not to be too political (aka revolutionary romatic) , there's also some funn facts about this little incedent which occured on a rather unfavourable point in history for the Empire. Who sad revolutionary activities and academics, animal feeding, popular commerce and tourism can't co-exist?