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amongst bards beauty became blessing born bosom bright called chief cold Cork dark dear death died drink Dublin early Eire Erin eyes fair fame father feeling flowers gave genius girl give grave green grief hand happy harp hear heart Here's hill honour hope Ireland Irish John Kilkenny known Lady LAMENT land language leave light literary literature lived London look Lord Mary Moore mourn native nature never night o'er once play poems poet poetic poetry poor praise race recorded remain remembered returned rose round Sheridan sigh sing smile SONG-WRITERS songs soon sorrow soul spirit success sweet tears tender thee thine THOMAS thou thought translations true turn wandering wild writings written wrote young youth
Strana 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...
Strana 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...
Strana 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!
Strana 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...
Strana 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!
Strana 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.
Strana 172 - The Erne shall run red With redundance of blood, The earth shall rock beneath our tread, And flames wrap hill and wood, And gun-peal, and slogan cry Wake many a glen serene, Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die, My dark Rosaleen!
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 308 - How sweet the answer Echo makes To Music at night When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away o'er lawns and lakes Goes answering light ! Yet Love hath echoes truer far And far more sweet Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn or lute or soft guitar The songs repeat. 'Tis when the sigh, — in youth sincere And only then, The sigh that's breathed for one to hear — Is by that one, that only Dear Breathed back again.