The Lyrics of IrelandSamuel Lover Houlston and Wright, 1858 - 360 páginas |
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Página 10
... bosom— Can it , dearest , must it be , Thou within an hour wilt lose him , - He for ever loses thee ? Farewell , Bessy ! Yet , oh ! not for ever . MILD MABLE KELLY . * CAROLAN . Born 1670. Died 1738. Translated by SAMUEL FERGUSON ...
... bosom— Can it , dearest , must it be , Thou within an hour wilt lose him , - He for ever loses thee ? Farewell , Bessy ! Yet , oh ! not for ever . MILD MABLE KELLY . * CAROLAN . Born 1670. Died 1738. Translated by SAMUEL FERGUSON ...
Página 11
... bosom or hand . The dewy blue blossom that hangs on the spray , More blue than her eyes human eye never saw ; Deceit never lurked in its beautiful ray- Dear lady , I drink to you , slainte go bragh ' † To gaze on her beauty the young ...
... bosom or hand . The dewy blue blossom that hangs on the spray , More blue than her eyes human eye never saw ; Deceit never lurked in its beautiful ray- Dear lady , I drink to you , slainte go bragh ' † To gaze on her beauty the young ...
Página 14
... bosom can never recover The light it hath lost : As the young bride remembers the mother She loves , though she never may see ; As a sister remembers a brother , Oh dearest , remember me . Could I be thy true lover , dearest , Could'st ...
... bosom can never recover The light it hath lost : As the young bride remembers the mother She loves , though she never may see ; As a sister remembers a brother , Oh dearest , remember me . Could I be thy true lover , dearest , Could'st ...
Página 16
... : Her beauty is my bosom's sun , Her faith my fostering shade , And I will love my darling one , Till even the sun shall fade . I love my love in the morning , I love. I LOVE MY LOVE IN THE MORNING . DRY BE THAT TEAR .
... : Her beauty is my bosom's sun , Her faith my fostering shade , And I will love my darling one , Till even the sun shall fade . I love my love in the morning , I love. I LOVE MY LOVE IN THE MORNING . DRY BE THAT TEAR .
Página 26
... bosom heav'd - no word she said ; I mark'd her strife of feeling ; " Oh speak my doom , dear maid , " I cried , " By yon bright heaven above thee ; " She gently raised her eyes , and sighed , " Too well you know I love thee . " The ...
... bosom heav'd - no word she said ; I mark'd her strife of feeling ; " Oh speak my doom , dear maid , " I cried , " By yon bright heaven above thee ; " She gently raised her eyes , and sighed , " Too well you know I love thee . " The ...
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Palavras e frases frequentes
admirable appear aroon ballad bard beauty bless Born bosom boys brave bright called celebrated charming cold dark dear deep drink Dublin Erin fair fall fame father fear feeling flowers girl give given gone green hand head hear heart hill honour hope Ireland Irish island Kilkenny King lady land leave light lines live look Lord lover maid Mary meet melody Moore morning mountain native nature ne'er never night o'er once original pass poet poor remember rest rose round seen Shan Sheridan sigh sing sleep smile song soul spirit stand sure sweet tears tell thee There's thing thou thought Translated true turn verse waters wild written young
Passagens conhecidas
Página 171 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican ; And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame. But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly: Oh, the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Página 199 - Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first, best country, ever is at home.
Página 4 - ONE day I wrote her name upon the strand ; But came the waves, and washed it away : Agayne, I wrote it with a second hand ; But came the tyde, and made my paynes his pray. Vayne man, sayd she, that doest in vaine assay A mortall thing so to immortalize ; For I my selve shall lyke to this decay, And eke my name bee wyped out lykewize. Not so...
Página 7 - The corn was springin' fresh and green, And the lark sang loud and high, And the red was on your lip, Mary, And the love-light in your eye. The place is little changed, Mary, The day is bright as then, The lark's loud song is in my ear, And the corn is green again; But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, And your breath, warm on my cheek: And I still keep list'nin' for the words You never more will speak.
Página 65 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Página 79 - I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize ; Now to the maid who has none, sir : Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
Página 122 - So lovely the Widow Malone. Of lovers she had a full score, or more, And fortunes they all had galore, in store; From the minister down to the clerk of the crown, All were courting the Widow Malone, ohone! All were courting the Widow Malone. But so modest was Mistress Malone, 'twas known, That no one could see her alone, ohone!
Página 13 - Go, forget me — why should sorrow O'er that brow a shadow fling ? Go, forget me — and to-morrow Brightly smile and sweetly sing. Smile — though I shall not be near thee ; Sing — though I shall never hear thee ; May thy soul with pleasure shine Lasting as the gloom of mine ! Go, forget me, etc.
Página 247 - Woe and pain, pain and woe, Are my lot, night and noon, To see your bright face clouded so, Like to the mournful moon. But yet will I rear your throne Again in golden sheen ; 'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone, My Dark Rosaleen...
Página 246 - O, MY Dark Rosaleen, Do not sigh, do not weep ! The priests are on the ocean green, They march along the deep. There's wine from the royal Pope, Upon the ocean green ; And Spanish ale shall give you hope, My Dark Rosaleen...