The Poems of Charles WolfeA. H. Bullen, 1903 - 61 sider |
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Side xxiii
... claim of Wolfe to the title of poet . Other poems marked by the same qualities of metrical charm , tenderness , and individuality of feeling which characterise everything he wrote , are " The Frailty of Beauty " and the song ...
... claim of Wolfe to the title of poet . Other poems marked by the same qualities of metrical charm , tenderness , and individuality of feeling which characterise everything he wrote , are " The Frailty of Beauty " and the song ...
Side xxiv
... claims advanced in connection with them , form an interesting item in the curiosities of literature . For perhaps no poem has been the subject of more false claims ; and even the χχίν INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.
... claims advanced in connection with them , form an interesting item in the curiosities of literature . For perhaps no poem has been the subject of more false claims ; and even the χχίν INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.
Side xxv
Charles Wolfe. the subject of more false claims ; and even the well - known French version published by " Father Prout " in Bentley's Miscellany in 1837 has been gravely represented as the original from which Wolfe slavishly rendered his ...
Charles Wolfe. the subject of more false claims ; and even the well - known French version published by " Father Prout " in Bentley's Miscellany in 1837 has been gravely represented as the original from which Wolfe slavishly rendered his ...
Side xxvii
... claims being put forward . One of these was peculiarly ridiculous . Mr. John Sidney Taylor , then a well - known writer in the English press , and an old college friend of Wolfe's , had written to the Morning Chronicle of October 24 ...
... claims being put forward . One of these was peculiarly ridiculous . Mr. John Sidney Taylor , then a well - known writer in the English press , and an old college friend of Wolfe's , had written to the Morning Chronicle of October 24 ...
Side xxix
... claim was put forward on behalf of one Macintosh , a parish schoolmaster . Many persons believed the assertions of the Advertiser , and the Rev. W. Moir , a Presbyterian minister in the parish where Macintosh lived , zealously sup ...
... claim was put forward on behalf of one Macintosh , a parish schoolmaster . Many persons believed the assertions of the Advertiser , and the Rev. W. Moir , a Presbyterian minister in the parish where Macintosh lived , zealously sup ...
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Abel Abel's Anster Archdeacon Russell authorship Beauty behold breeze Britain brother brow Burial of Sir Cain Captain Medwin's Charles Dickinson CHARLES WOLFE charm college friend copy darkness delight dread Dublin Dublin University e'en Edinburgh Annual edition Erin's father forget Gaul Gaul's gaze George Grierson glory glow grave hear heard heart Heaven horrors individuality of feeling INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR Jugurtha LAST ROSE letter lines look lyrical Marius mind Mortimer O'Sullivan mountain mournful ne'er never NOTE Numidia o'er pity poet poet's poetical poetry printed Rome ROSE OF SUMMER Royal Irish Academy Russell's Saragossa scarcely seems sing Sir John Moore sleep slumber smile song sorrow soul Spain spirit stanzas stern sweet Tagus talents tears thee thou hast thought tion trembling Trinity College Twas vengeance verses volume warm weep wild harp woes Wolfe Tone Wolfe's college Wolfe's poem written youth
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Side 2 - 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.
Side 3 - The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more ! And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again ; And still the thought I will not brook That I must look in vain ! But when I speak — thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid ; And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary ! thou art dead...
Side 2 - But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 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!
Side 1 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Side 4 - And still upon that face I look And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook That I must look in vain ! But when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid ; And now I feel, as well I may. Sweet Mary, thou art dead ! If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, All cold and all serene, — I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been...
Side 2 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Side 4 - Sweet Mary, thou art dead! If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, All cold and all serene, I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been. While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, Thou seemest still mine own; But there I lay thee in thy grave, — And I am now alone! I do not think, where'er thou art, Thou hast forgotten me; And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart In thinking, too, of thee; Yet there was round thee such a dawn Of light ne'er seen before, As fancy never could...
Side 2 - 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 ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.
Side 5 - Go, forget me — why should sorrow O'er that brow a shadow fling ? Go. forget me — and to-morrow Brightly smile and sweetly sing. Smile — though I shall not be near thee, Sing, though I shall never hear thee; May thy soul with pleasure shine Lasting as the gloom of mine.
Side 6 - Like the sun, thy presence glowing, Clothes the meanest things in light; And when thou, like him, art going, Loveliest objects fade in night. All things looked so bright about thee, That they nothing seem without thee; By that pure and lucid mind Earthly things were too, refined. Go, thou vision, wildly gleaming, Softly on my soul that fell; Go, for me no longer beaming — Hope and Beauty! fare ye well!