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" Oh ! where's the slave, so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, * Who, could he burst His bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly... "
The Real America in Romance: With Reading Courses, Being a Complete and ... - 305. oldal
szerző: John Roy Musick - 1908
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

Blackwood's Magazine, 46. kötet

1839 - 870 oldal
...upon tinder. " O where's the slave so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he bunt His honds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly ? What soul whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay 'd it, When thus its wing At ones could spring To the throne of Him who mcde it ? Farewell, Erin...

Irish Melodies

Thomas Moore - 1821 - 294 oldal
...very different accmint of that Goblin. WHERE IS THE SLAVE ? I. WHERE is the slave, so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at...soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it ? Farewell, ERIN...

Melodies (Irish melodies, National melodies).

Thomas Moore - 1821 - 276 oldal
...as ever! OH! WHERE'S THE SLAVE! AIR—Sios agta sins liom. OH! where's the slave so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at...soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it? Farewell, Erin!...

Irish melodies, complete; to which are added National melodies

Thomas Moore - 1822 - 198 oldal
...very different account ollhat goblin. OH! WHERE'S THE SLAVE! AIR — Sioi agui iiot Horn. OH! where'* the slave so lowly, Condemned to chains unholy, "Who,...soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing , At once may spring To the the throne of Him who made it? Farewell,...

The works of Thomas Moore, comprehending all his melodies, ballads ..., 4. kötet

Thomas Moore - 1823 - 314 oldal
...ever ! WHERE IS THE SLAVE ? AIK. — vi-ws agus sios liorn. L WHERE is the slave, so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at...soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it ? Farewell, ERIN...

The Works of Thomas Moore: Irish melodies. National airs

Thomas Moore - 1823 - 464 oldal
...ever ! WHERE IS THE SLAVE ? AIR. — Sios agus sios Horn. I. WHERE is the slave, so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at...soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it ? Farewell, ERIN...

The Works of Thomas Moore, Esq, 3. kötet

Thomas Moore - 1825 - 310 oldal
...account of that goblin. OJI! WHERE'S THE SLAVE, SO LOWLY. Am — " Sioi agus sioi lion." OH ! where's the slave, so lowly, Condemned to chains unholy, Who,...soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing • At once may spring To the throne of him who made it ? Farewell,...

Melodies, Songs, Sacred Songs, and National Airs

Thomas Moore - 1825 - 374 oldal
...! Oh ! where's the slave. .!ir— Kios agus sios Horn. Oh ! where's the slave, so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, * Who, could he burst His bonds...whose wrongs degrade it, • Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it ? Farewell, Erin...

The poetical works of Thomas Moore

Thomas Moore - 1827 - 426 oldal
...MUT«]. O'Donnrl), ba* giralda rcrj diffi ••t account of lliat gol>lin. Who, could he burst liU bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly? What...soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Dim who made it T Farewell, Erin!...

Irish Melodies: National Airs, Ballads, Songs, Etc

Thomas Moore - 1828 - 232 oldal
...Goblin. WHERE IS THE SLAVE ? AIR. —Slot agus sios Horn. I. ."WHERE is the slave so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at...soul, whose wrongs degrade It, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it ? Farewell, ERIN...




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