A selection of Irish melodies, songs, and poems

Thomas Allman & Son, 1859 - 160 pages

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Page 109 - 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...
Page 116 - They made her a grave, too cold and damp "For a soul so warm and true; "And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, "Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, "She paddles her white canoe. "And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see, "And her paddle I soon shall hear; "Long and loving our life shall be, "And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, "When the footstep of death is near.
Page 64 - SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND She is far from the land where her youn-g hero sleeps, And lovers are round her, sighing: But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Page 100 - Her smile when Beauty granted, I hung with gaze enchanted, Like him the Sprite*, Whom maids by night Oft meet in glen that's haunted. Like him, too, Beauty won me, But while her eyes were on me, If once their ray Was turn'd away, O ! winds could not outrun me.
Page 22 - 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.
Page 62 - Oh, my Nora's gown for me, That floats as wild as mountain breezes, Leaving every beauty free To sink or swell as Heaven pleases. Yes, my Nora Creina, dear, My simple, graceful Nora Creina, Nature's dress Is loveliness — The dress you wear, my Nora Creina. Lesbia hath a wit refined, But when its points are gleaming round us, Who can tell if they're design'd To dazzle merely, or to wound us...
Page 23 - 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.
Page 86 - Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled — You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Page 21 - So lone and lovely, through this bleak way ? Are Erin's sons so good or so cold As not to be tempted by woman or gold ? " "Sir Knight ! I feel not the least alarm, No son of Erin will offer me harm : For, though they love women and golden store, Sir Knight ! they love honour and virtue more.
Page 46 - Had promised to link the last tie before noon; And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon. As she look'd in...

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