Celtic Irish Songs and Song-writers: A Selection. With an Introduction and MemoirsCharles MacCarthy Collins J. Cornish & sons, 1885 - 334 sider |
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Side 3
... never tried the Baron's - from cover to cover ; tumid , stilted , bombastic , -insipidities and absurdities abound . on every page , and the passages worth reading can be counted on the fingers of one hand . Miss Brooke dis- covered in ...
... never tried the Baron's - from cover to cover ; tumid , stilted , bombastic , -insipidities and absurdities abound . on every page , and the passages worth reading can be counted on the fingers of one hand . Miss Brooke dis- covered in ...
Side 4
... never given any further proof of his talents than what is exhibited in the ode now before us , this stanza alone would have been sufficient to have rendered his name immortal . ' Im- mortality was cheaply earned in Miss Brooke's opinion ...
... never given any further proof of his talents than what is exhibited in the ode now before us , this stanza alone would have been sufficient to have rendered his name immortal . ' Im- mortality was cheaply earned in Miss Brooke's opinion ...
Side 9
... never shook themselves free of exaggera- tion or emancipated themselves from myth . Magnified exploits of mythical ancestors were considered by the bards as creating the noblest emulation to heroism and bravery . But however stirring ...
... never shook themselves free of exaggera- tion or emancipated themselves from myth . Magnified exploits of mythical ancestors were considered by the bards as creating the noblest emulation to heroism and bravery . But however stirring ...
Side 16
... never forgot to manifest and declare their fidelity , as they do to her dark - eyed maidens and her brave sons . The love of country is not of the heroic and warlike , but THE IRISH BARDS AND SONG - WRITERS . 17 of 16 IRISH SONGS AND ...
... never forgot to manifest and declare their fidelity , as they do to her dark - eyed maidens and her brave sons . The love of country is not of the heroic and warlike , but THE IRISH BARDS AND SONG - WRITERS . 17 of 16 IRISH SONGS AND ...
Side 20
... never coarse or indecent . If it be true that the songs of a people are the truest indication and surest test of the nature and disposition of the people , the songs of Ireland will demonstrate that the Irish were a convivial race ...
... never coarse or indecent . If it be true that the songs of a people are the truest indication and surest test of the nature and disposition of the people , the songs of Ireland will demonstrate that the Irish were a convivial race ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Adieu Banba bards beauty blessing born bosom breast bright brow Caoch O'Leary CAROLAN charms chree cold Cork CURRAN Dark Rosaleen dear death Dermody died dream drink Dublin Duhallow ELIZABETH RYVES Erin's eyes fair Hills fame Farewell father flowers friends Garnavilla genius GERALD GRIFFIN girl glory grave green grief hand harp hath heart heaven Hills of Eire hope Innisfail Ireland Irish literature Irish Volunteers Irish wife Irishman J. C. MANGAN JOHN JOHN BANIM Lady LAMENT land lived lonely Lord lover Lysaght M'GEE maid Mary MATTHEW CONCANEN mourn native ne'er never night o'er Old Erin poems poet proud remember RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN RICHARD DALTON WILLIAMS rose round shamrock Sheridan shine sigh sing sleep smile soft Soggarth Aroon song-writer songs sorrow soul spirit sweet tears thee thine THOMAS DERMODY THOMAS MOORE thou Translated Twas vale weep wild wrote young
Populære passager
Side 265 - My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moon's pale ray; Its hold is frail, — its date is brief, Restless, and soon to pass away ! Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade, The parent tree will mourn its shade. The winds bewail the leafless tree, — But none shall breathe a sigh for me...
Side 324 - I will own the colour true, When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure ? I must press it, to be sure ; Nor can I be certain then, Till it grateful press again. Must I with attentive eye Watch her heaving bosom sigh ? I will do so — when I see That heaving...
Side 305 - Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. It is not while beauty and youth are...
Side 210 - There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green; 'twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh!
Side 202 - 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. O, the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Side 306 - LESBIA hath a beaming eye, But no one knows for whom it beameth ; Right and left its arrows fly, But what they aim at no one dreameth. Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon My Nora's lid that seldom rises ; Few its looks, but every one, Like unexpected light, surprises...
Side 213 - The minstrel fell! — but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under; The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder; And said, "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slavery!
Side 201 - 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.
Side 90 - Betrayed in friendship, befooled in love, With spirit shipwrecked, and young hopes blasted, He still, still strove. Till spent with toil, dreeing death for others, And some whose hands should have wrought for him (If children live not for sires and mothers), His mind grew dim. And he fell far through that pit abysmal, The gulf and grave of Maginn and Burns, And pawned his soul for the devil's dismal Stock of returns.
Side 282 - Tis but a step down yonder lane, And the little church stands near — The church where we were wed, Mary, I see the spire from here. But the graveyard lies between, Mary, And my step might break your rest — For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep, With your baby on your breast.