The Poets and Poetry of Ireland: With Historical and Critical Essays and NotesJames R. Osgood, 1881 - 444 sider |
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Side 9
... with a sonorous vigor of verse and happy boldness of epithet worthy of Chapman . It gives a better idea of the ancient Irish epic than any other translation or recon- struction , and so far as the original Celtic romance THE BARDS . 9.
... with a sonorous vigor of verse and happy boldness of epithet worthy of Chapman . It gives a better idea of the ancient Irish epic than any other translation or recon- struction , and so far as the original Celtic romance THE BARDS . 9.
Side 11
... verse preserved during the interminable and deadly struggles of the native race against the English invaders from the landing of Strongbow to the battle of the Boyne . During that period there was no time when there was not strife ...
... verse preserved during the interminable and deadly struggles of the native race against the English invaders from the landing of Strongbow to the battle of the Boyne . During that period there was no time when there was not strife ...
Side 13
... verses display remarkable vigor , and the repetition of the various images of storm and cold impress them with the utmost vividness , while the closing burst of passion is the very essence of unquenchable hatred . The following also ...
... verses display remarkable vigor , and the repetition of the various images of storm and cold impress them with the utmost vividness , while the closing burst of passion is the very essence of unquenchable hatred . The following also ...
Side 14
... artless confusion such as would be natural to one more intent on making known his feelings than in constructing elaborate verse , and sometimes are not much more than a jumbled rhapsody . 14 THE POETS AND POETRY OF IRELAND .
... artless confusion such as would be natural to one more intent on making known his feelings than in constructing elaborate verse , and sometimes are not much more than a jumbled rhapsody . 14 THE POETS AND POETRY OF IRELAND .
Side 19
... verses to the cup of O'Hara . He had also a sense of dignity to resent unworthy treatment , and to brand as a niggard any one who did not receive him with the consideration to which ' he was entitled . But the greater part of his verse ...
... verses to the cup of O'Hara . He had also a sense of dignity to resent unworthy treatment , and to brand as a niggard any one who did not receive him with the consideration to which ' he was entitled . But the greater part of his verse ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
ANON bards Bawn beautiful Bellewstown blessed boys brave bright Caoch O'Leary chree Clondallagh cold Colleen Colleen Bawn Conall Cork County Cork Dark Rosaleen darling dead dear death drimmin dubh Dublin English Erin eyes fair hills fairy faithful fame father Fontenoy friends gallant Gael GEORGE SIGERSON girl glen of Aherlow gold gone Gougane Barra grave green grief hand head heart heaven hills of Eire hurroo Ireland Irish poetry J. C. MANGAN Kilkenny lament land light literary live lonely Lord Machree maid maiden Maire bhan Mary morning mountain ne'er never night o'er ochone poems poor Rapparees Rory rose round SACK OF BALTIMORE Shan Van Vogh sigh sing SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON sleep smile soft Soggarth aroon song sorrow soul spirit sweet tears thee there's thine thou TRANS verse voice wandered wild WILLIAM MAGINN young youth
Populære passager
Side 243 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning, — By the struggling moonbeams' misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Side 237 - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
Side 245 - 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...
Side 434 - 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...
Side 52 - All day long, in unrest, To and fro do I move. The very soul within my breast Is wasted for you, love! The heart ... in my bosom faints To think of you, my Queen, My life of life, my saint of saints, My Dark Rosaleen!
Side 234 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed. Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. — So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more.
Side 391 - The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the ruddy lurid row Of smiths that stand, an ardent band, like men before the foe, As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing monster, slow Sinks on the anvil: — all about the faces fiery grow; 'Hurrah!' they shout, 'leap out — leap out;' bang, bang the sledges go: Hurrah!
Side 238 - Boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him : His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. — " Land of song !" said the warrior-bard, " Though all the world betrays thee, " One sword, at least thy rights shall guard, " One faithful harp shall praise thee...
Side 246 - 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 234 - Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, Thy tears shall efface their decree ; For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, I have been but too faithful to thee. With thee were the dreams of my earliest love ; Every thought of my reason was thine ; In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Thy name shall be mingled with mine.