Sir Samuel Ferguson in the Ireland of His Day, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

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William Blackwood and Sons, 1896
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and I still can't find anything on his parents.

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Page 16 - If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
Page 41 - What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither : Ripeness is all : Come on.
Page 354 - The very God! think, Abib; dost thou think? So, the All-Great, were the All-Loving too So, through the thunder comes a human voice Saying, "O heart I made, a heart beats here! "Face, my hands fashioned, see it in myself! "Thou hast no power nor may'st conceive of mine, "But love I gave thee, with myself to love, "And thou must love me who have died for thee!
Page 349 - I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear : But now mine eye seeth thee. Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.
Page 1 - Yet what binds us, friend to friend, But that soul with soul can blend ? Soul-like were those hours of yore; Let us walk in soul once more ! " Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee ; Take, I give it willingly; For, invisible to thee, Spirits twain have crossed with me !" " O, that is beautiful, ' beautiful exceedingly !' Who translated it ? "
Page 182 - O Lady! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does nature live: Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud! And would we aught behold, of higher worth, Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud Enveloping the Earth And from the soul itself must there be sent A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
Page 156 - How charming is divine philosophy ! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Page 138 - We kneel, how weak! we rise, how full of power! Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, Or others, that we are not always strong, That we are ever overborne with care, That we should ever weak or heartless be, Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, And joy and strength and courage are with Thee!2 Notes 1.
Page 103 - For life, with all it yields of joy and woe, " And hope and fear, believe the aged friend,
Page 256 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life. " But not the praise," Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears.

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