Irish Melodies

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Collin's Clear-Type Press, 1849 - 184 страница

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Страница 81 - 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...
Страница 47 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing : But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Страница 12 - 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. 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!
Страница 86 - Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free, First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea, I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, But oh ! could I love thee more deeply than now...
Страница 11 - THE MEETING OF THE WATERS. 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.
Страница 31 - And thus, I thought, our fortunes run, For many a lover looks to thee, While oh! I feel there is but one, One Mary in the world for me.
Страница 48 - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him, Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Страница 6 - Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, Thy tears shall efface their decree; For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, I have been but too faithful to thee. With thee were the dreams of my earliest love ; Every thought of my reason was thine: In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above Thy name shall be mingled with mine!
Страница 68 - I've yet to roam : — The mind that burns within me, And pure smiles from thee at home. Thus when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks round in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.
Страница 104 - How sweet the answer Echo makes To Music at night When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away o'er lawns and lakes Goes answering light ! Yet Love hath echoes truer far And far more sweet Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn or lute or soft guitar The songs repeat. 'Tis when the sigh, — in youth sincere And only then, The sigh that 's breathed for one to hear— Is by that one, that only Dear Breathed back again.

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