Reisen in Irland ...

C. Bünsow, 1845 - 468 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 - Time but th' impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast [Who that has melted o'er bis lay To Mary's tool in Heaven above, But pictured tees.
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 154 - Of a' the airts Ihe wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, Slliwober аиф bt'e SBínbe web'n, ben SBeften It'eb' ,1ф metjî — bas SBeîenntnt'f?

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