Reisen in Irland, oder Irland in historischer, statistischer, politischer und socialer Beziehung

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Bünson, 1845 - 80 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 2 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Pàgina 2 - The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but the impression deeper makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.
Pàgina 317 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites...
Pàgina 258 - Celtic language bath been preserved, with less corruption, than even in Britain ; where the- Danish, Saxon and French languages have been interwoven with it; be that as it may, the inhabitants are remarkably industrious, cleanly to an extreme, and possessed of great simplicity of manners ; virtu...

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