Ballads, Poems, and Lyrics, Original and TranslatedJ. McGlashan, 1850 - 388 pàgines |
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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Ballads, Poems, and Lyrics, Original and Translated Denis Florence MacCarthy Visualització completa - 1850 |
Ballads, Poems, and Lyrics, Original and Translated Denis Florence MacCarthy Visualització completa - 1850 |
Ballads, Poems, and Lyrics, Original and Translated Denis Florence MacCarthy Visualització completa - 1850 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Acta Sanctorum amid ANDRE CHENIER Arran azure Ballyshannon bard beams beauty beneath birds blessed bosom breast breath breeze Brendan bright Cabul calm clouds crowd Cushendall dark dear doth dream dwell earth eyes face fair fairest fairy flies flowers fond gannet gazing gentle gleam Glenarm glorious golden Gougane Barra green hand happy hath heart heaven hills hope hour Irish island isle JUSTINUS KERNER Kenmare land life's light lips look Love's Mac Caura Mac John maidens Malloc Moorish morning mother mountain neath never night nymphs o'er Paskal passed peace Phooka proud Pulcherius Purchena purple rich rock rose round sails Saint scene shining shore sigh silent sing skies smile song star steed stranger band stream summer sunny sweet tears thee thine thou tide Tirhugh Tralee tree Vale of Shanganah voice wander waves weary weep wild wing young youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 131 - AH ! my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the May — Waiting for the pleasant rambles, Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles, With the woodbine alternating, Scent the dewy way. Ah ! my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the May.
Pàgina 7 - Laboureth ever and ever with hope through the morning of life, Winning home and its darling divinities — love-worshipped children and wife. Round swings the hammer of industry, quickly the sharp chisel rings, And the heart of the toiler has throbbings that stir not the bosom of kings...
Pàgina 143 - How many different rites have these grey old temples known ? To the mind what dreams are written in these chronicles of stone ! What terror and what error, what gleams of love and truth, Have flashed from these walls since the world was in its youth...
Pàgina 195 - Do our numbers multiply But to perish and to die? Is this all our destiny below, — That our bodies, as they rot, May fertilize the spot Where the harvests of the stranger grow? If this be, indeed, our fate, Far, far better now, though late, That we seek some other land and try some other zone; The coldest, bleakest shore Will surely yield us more Than the storehouse of the stranger that we dare not call our own.
Pàgina 256 - But, lo! his dream changes; — a vision less bright Comes to darken and banish that scene of delight. The gold-seeking Spaniards, a merciless band. Assail the meek natives and ravage the land. He sees the fair palace, the temple on fire, And the peaceful Cazique 'mid their ashes expire; He sees, too, — Oh, saddest!
Pàgina 75 - I grew to manhood by the western wave, Among the mighty mountains on the shore ; My bed the rock within some natural cave, My food, whate'er the seas or seasons bore ; My occupation, morn and noon and night : The only dream my hasty slumbers gave, Was Time's unheeding, unreturning flight, And the great world that lies beyond the grave.
Pàgina 371 - Rocks) the receptacle of a deale of scales thereon yearly slaughtered. These rocks sometimes appear to be a great city far off, full of houses, castles, towers, and chimneys ; sometimes full of blazing flames, smoak, and people running to and fro. Another day you would see nothing but a number of ships, with their sailes and riggings ; then so many great stakes or reekes of corn and turf...
Pàgina 379 - O ! beauty, some spell from kind Nature thou bearest, Some magic of tone or enchantment of eye, That hearts that are hardest, from forms that are fairest, Receive such impressions as never can die ! The foot of the fairy, though lightsome and airy, Can stamp on the hard rock * the shape it doth wear, Art cannot trace it nor ages efface it — And such are thy glances, sweet Kate of Kenmare...
Pàgina 379 - ... river's soft stealing, All fade as a vision and vanish from him ! Yet he bears from each far land a flower for that garland, That memory weaves of the bright and the fair; While this sigh I am breathing my garland is wreathing, And the rose of that garland is Kate of...
Pàgina 144 - Here was placed the holy chalice that held the sacred wine, And the gold cross from the altar, and the relics from the shrine, And the mitre shining brighter with its diamonds than the East, And the crozier of the Pontiff and the vestments of the Priest!