Romances and Ballads of IrelandHercules Ellis J. Duffy, 1850 - 432 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
Abbeydorney amid Ampato arms Azincour BALLAD beam beauty behold beneath blood bloom Bodach bosom brave breast breath bride bright brow charms cheek Clan clasped cried dark dastard dead death deeds deep Duhallow Duke of Bar earth eyes fair fairy falchion fame fell fight Fillan fire flowers flying gallant GERALD GRIFFIN glorious glory glowing grave grief hand hath head heart heaven hills horse host hour JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN King Harry lake land light lips live Lord loud Lough love's M'Kenna maid maiden Merrow Meva Millstreet minor poems Mount Leinster mourning ne'er neath Nelly night noble Norsemen o'er onward pale plain queen Quick Romance rose round rushing Saxon seems shine sigh Sikhs Sir Hugh slain smile soft song soul spirit stood stream Sutlej sweet sword Tanist tears thee thine thou thought tower Turgo VIII wave ween wild youth
Pasajes populares
Página 90 - Tell how, disdaining all earth can give, He would have taught men, from wisdom's pages, The way to live. And tell how trampled, derided, hated, And worn by weakness, disease, and wrong, He fled for shelter to God, who mated His soul with song.
Página 91 - 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.
Página 91 - Stood on his path. And tell how now, amid wreck and sorrow, And want, and sickness, and houseless nights, He bides in calmness the silent morrow, That no ray lights. And lives he still, then ? Yes ! Old and hoary At thirty-nine, from despair and woe, He lives enduring what future story Will never know. Him grant a grave to, ye pitying noble, Deep in your bosoms ! There let him dwell ! He, too, had tears for all souls in trouble, Here and in hell.
Página 89 - That once there was one whose veins ran lightning No eye beheld. Tell how his boyhood was one drear night-hour, How shone for him, through his griefs and gloom, No star of all heaven sends to light our Path to the tomb.
Página 54 - Arise, my slumbering soul ! arise ! And learn what yet remains for thee To dree or do : The signs are flaming in the skies ; A struggling world would yet be free, And live anew.
Página 347 - No more, no more — with aching brow, And restless heart, and burning brain, We ask the When, the Where, the How, And ask in vain. And all philosophy, all faith, All earthly — all celestial lore, Have but one voice, which only saith — Endure — adore ! Cljr l\omrmrc of Hjr fj&nntom i.
Página 135 - Oft, with tears, I have groaned to God for pity — Oft gone wandering till my way grew dim — Oft sung unto Him a prayerful ditty — Oft, all lonely in this throngful city Raised my soul to Him ! And from path to path His mercy tracked me — From a many a peril snatched He me, When false friends pursued, betrayed, attacked me, When gloom overdarked, and sickness racked me, He was by to save and free...
Página 188 - Dost thou, then, menace Dathy, thou ? And dreamest thou that he will bow To one unknown, to one so mean, So powerless as a priest must be ? He scorns alike thy threats and thee ! On! on, my men, to victory!" And, with loud shouts for Eire's King, The Irish rush to meet the foe, And falchions clash and bucklers ring, — When, lo ! Lo! a mighty earthquake's shock! And the cleft plains reel and rock; Clouds of darkness pall the skies; Thunder crashes, Lightning flashes, And in an instant Dathy lies...
Página 90 - Perchance not deep, but intense and rapid — A mountain stream. Tell how this Nameless, condemned for years long To herd with demons from hell beneath, Saw things that made him, with groans and tears, long For even death. Go on to tell how, with genius wasted, Betrayed in friendship, befooled in love, With spirit shipwrecked, and young hopes blasted, He still, still strove.
Página 134 - Thorns and tares, which rose in rank profusion, Round my scanty fruitage and my flowers, Till I almost deemed it self-delusion, Any attempt or glance at their extrusion From their midnight bowers.