The Poems of Charles WolfeA. H. Bullen, 1903 - 61 sider |
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Side xi
... father died when Charles was but eight years old , too early to exercise any influence upon the mental development of his youngest son . Through him the poet might trace two vague connections with the atmosphere of Irish rebellion , in ...
... father died when Charles was but eight years old , too early to exercise any influence upon the mental development of his youngest son . Through him the poet might trace two vague connections with the atmosphere of Irish rebellion , in ...
Side xxv
... Father Prout " in Bentley's Miscellany in 1837 has been gravely represented as the original from which Wolfe slavishly rendered his lines ! In a letter of Rev. Samuel O'Sullivan , men- tioned above as one of Wolfe's college intimates ...
... Father Prout " in Bentley's Miscellany in 1837 has been gravely represented as the original from which Wolfe slavishly rendered his lines ! In a letter of Rev. Samuel O'Sullivan , men- tioned above as one of Wolfe's college intimates ...
Side 33
... father boast one day's obedience ? - And wherefore , Eden , when he passed for ever Thy gates , in slow and silent bitterness , — Why did he turn that look of bursting anguish Upon thy fruits , thy groves , thy vales , thy fountains ...
... father boast one day's obedience ? - And wherefore , Eden , when he passed for ever Thy gates , in slow and silent bitterness , — Why did he turn that look of bursting anguish Upon thy fruits , thy groves , thy vales , thy fountains ...
Side 34
... Father Adam Once lived in brighter climes , on sweeter food.- But , ah ! at least to this our second Eden Permit no artful serpent to approach ; Let no foul traitor grasp at fruits which thou Hast interdicted ; and no sword of flame ...
... Father Adam Once lived in brighter climes , on sweeter food.- But , ah ! at least to this our second Eden Permit no artful serpent to approach ; Let no foul traitor grasp at fruits which thou Hast interdicted ; and no sword of flame ...
Side 41
... father was to thee a father also ; He watched thy infant years , he gave thee all That youth could ask , and scarcely manhood came Than came a kingdom also ; yet didst thou " - Oh , I am faint ! —they have not brought me food- How did I ...
... father was to thee a father also ; He watched thy infant years , he gave thee all That youth could ask , and scarcely manhood came Than came a kingdom also ; yet didst thou " - Oh , I am faint ! —they have not brought me food- How did I ...
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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!