The ballad poetry of Ireland. Ed. by C.G. Duffy. 4th edsir Charles Gavan Duffy J. Duffy, 1845 - 252 Seiten |
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Seite xix
... fair little Island ! May Orange and Green No longer be seen Distained with the blood of our Island ! " by stating that it was written before Emancipa- tion , BALLAD POETRY . xix The Lord of Dunkerron, William Carleton, John Banim,
... fair little Island ! May Orange and Green No longer be seen Distained with the blood of our Island ! " by stating that it was written before Emancipa- tion , BALLAD POETRY . xix The Lord of Dunkerron, William Carleton, John Banim,
Seite 72
... blood ? Can he doubt what the gush of warm blood would ex- plain ? That she sought the consent of her monarch in vain ! For see all around him , in white foam and froth , The waves of the ocean boil up in their wrath ! The palace of ...
... blood ? Can he doubt what the gush of warm blood would ex- plain ? That she sought the consent of her monarch in vain ! For see all around him , in white foam and froth , The waves of the ocean boil up in their wrath ! The palace of ...
Seite 81
... blood and tears ! Hunted thro ' thy native grounds , Or flung reward to human hounds ; Each one pull'd and tore his share , Heedless of thy deep despair . Hapless Nation - hapless Land , Heap of uncementing sand ! Crumbled by a foreign ...
... blood and tears ! Hunted thro ' thy native grounds , Or flung reward to human hounds ; Each one pull'd and tore his share , Heedless of thy deep despair . Hapless Nation - hapless Land , Heap of uncementing sand ! Crumbled by a foreign ...
Seite 82
sir Charles Gavan Duffy. Monstrous and unhappy sight ! Brothers ' blood will not unite ; Holy oil and holy water , Mix , and fill the world with slaughter . Who is she with aspect wild ? The widow'd mother with her child , Child new ...
sir Charles Gavan Duffy. Monstrous and unhappy sight ! Brothers ' blood will not unite ; Holy oil and holy water , Mix , and fill the world with slaughter . Who is she with aspect wild ? The widow'd mother with her child , Child new ...
Seite 93
... blood is warm , Una . " Upon thy brothers ' swords ! " And mine had borne them company , " Or the good blade I wore , " Which ne'er left foe in victory " Or friend in need before ; " In their's as in their fellows ' hearts " Also had ...
... blood is warm , Una . " Upon thy brothers ' swords ! " And mine had borne them company , " Or the good blade I wore , " Which ne'er left foe in victory " Or friend in need before ; " In their's as in their fellows ' hearts " Also had ...
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astór Bawn beauty blessing blood bogwood fire bonnie green woods bosom Boyne Water bride bright brow Castle Chealleadh dark dear death e'er EDWARD WALSH English Erin Erin's eyes fair fairy father GERALD GRIFFIN Gille machree glory grave grief hand heart heaven hill Ireland Irish JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN JEREMIAH JOSEPH CALLANAN JOHN BANIM keep your powder King land Lillibulero lonely Lord loud MacCaura maid maiden Malahide Castle Mary Mo craoibhin cno morning mountain native ne'er never night o'er ogh hone orro poems poor popular powder dry pride proud put your trust Rapparee river Lee Rory O'Moore round SAMUEL FERGUSON Saxon sing slang songs Soggarth aroon songs sorrow soul spirit sweet sword tears thee thine thou Three Cows translations Turlough Turloughmore Twas Ulster verses voice wave wild Woman of Three woods of Killeevy young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 245 - THE BELLS OF SHANDON With deep affection and recollection I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle their magic spells. On this I ponder where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee; With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
Seite 53 - My blessin' and my pride; There's nothing left to care for now. Since my poor Mary died. Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary, That still kept hoping on, When the trust in God had left my soul, And my arm's young strength was gone; There was comfort ever on your lip, And the kind look on your brow, — I bless you, Mary, for that same, Though you cannot hear me now. I thank you for the patient smile When your heart was fit to break, — When the hunger pain was gnawin...
Seite 245 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican, And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame; But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly.
Seite 101 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Seite 245 - ... knelling Its bold notes free, Made the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee. I've heard bells tolling Old "Adrian's Mole...
Seite 168 - Scully! may all kinds Of evil attend thee! On thy dark road of life May no kind one befriend thee! May fevers long burn thee, And agues long freeze thee! May the strong hand of God In his red anger seize thee! Had he died calmly, I would not deplore him; Or if the wild strife Of the sea-war closed o'er him; But with ropes round his white limbs Through ocean to trail him, Like a fish after slaughter — 'Tis therefore I wail him. Long may the curse Of his people pursue them; Scully, that sold him,...
Seite 85 - Nothing can convince tyrants of their folly but gunpowder and steel, so put your trust in God my boys and keep your powder dry.
Seite 220 - ... tis at a white heat now; The bellows ceased, the flames decreased; though on the forge's brow The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound ; And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round, All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare ; Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there. The windlass strains the tackle chains, the black mound heaves below, And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe ; It rises, roars, rends...
Seite 155 - Tho' the piper I bate, For fear the owld chate Wouldn't play you your favourite tune ; And when you're at mass My devotion you crass, For 'tis thinking of you I am, Molly Carew, While you wear, on purpose, a bonnet so deep, That I can't at your sweet purty face get a peep : Oh, lave off that bonnet, Or else I'll lave on it The loss of my wandherin...
Seite 109 - Then, daughter of O'Donnell, dry Thine overflowing eyes, and turn Thy heart aside, For Adam's race is born to die, And sternly the sepulchral urn Mocks human pride. Look not, nor sigh, for earthly throne, Nor place thy trust in arm of clay, But on thy knees Uplift thy soul to God alone. For all things go their destined way As He decrees.