The Golden Treasury of Irish Songs and Lyrics, 1. kötet

Első borító
Charles Welsh
Dodge publishing Company, 1907
 

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13. oldal - We may not know, we cannot tell, what pains he had to bear, but we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there.
368. oldal - When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds, too late, that men betray. What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover. To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
361. oldal - TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way, To where yon taper cheers the vale, With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow ; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem length'ning as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.
362. oldal - No flocks, that range the valley free, To slaughter I condemn ; Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them : " But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring ; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. " Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; All earthborn cares are wrong : Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.
64. oldal - In happy climes, where from the genial sun, And virgin earth such scenes ensue, The force of art by nature seems outdone, And fancied beauties by the true...
28. oldal - He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights.
119. oldal - Who in their coaches roll along the turnpikeRoad, what hard work 'tis crying all day ' Knives and Scissors to grind O!' "Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives? Did some rich man tyrannically use you ? Was it the squire ? or parson of the parish ? Or the attorney? "Was it the squire, for killing of his game ? or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining ? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a law-suit? "(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?) Drops of...
360. oldal - GOOD people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word— From those who spoke her praise. The needy seldom pass'd her door, And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor— Who left a pledge behind. She strove the neighbourhood to please With manners wondrous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways— Unless when she was sinning.
3. oldal - But when the warrior dieth, His comrades in the war, With arms reversed and muffled drum, Follow his funeral car ; They show the banners taken, They tell his battles won, And after him lead his masterless steed, While peals the minute gun.
212. oldal - Six thousand English veterans in stately column tread, Their cannon blaze in front and flank, Lord Hay is at their head ; Steady they step a-down the slope — steady they climb the hill ; Steady they load — steady they fire, moving right on-ward still, Betwixt the wood and Fontenoy, as through a furnace blast...

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