Easy Lessons, Or, Self-instruction in Irish :

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John Mullany, 1860 - 390 oldal
 

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149. oldal - THE APOSTLES' CREED I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord; Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell; the third day He...
136. oldal - THE minstrel boy to the war is gone. In the ranks of death you'll find him ; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. " Land of song !" said the warrior-bard, " Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee...
149. oldal - Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
135. oldal - 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.
135. oldal - Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve When we see them reflected from looks that we love. Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
135. oldal - 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 ! no, — it was something more exquisite still.
136. oldal - In the ranks of death you'll find him, His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. "Land of song!" said the warrior bard, "Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee!
343. oldal - Dear Harp of my Country ! in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, When proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song ! The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill ; But, so oft hast thou echoed the deep sigh of sadness, That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.
215. oldal - if it was not you, it was your father, and that is all the same ; but it is no use trying to argue me out of my supper ; " — and without another word he fell upon the poor helpless Lamb and tore her to pieces.
42. oldal - She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking — Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!

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