Illustrated Handbook of the Scenery and Antiquities of Southwestern Donegal ...

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McGlashan & Gill, 1872 - Donegal (Ireland : County) - 128 pages
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Page iii - What barbarous invader sack'd the land ? But when he hears no Goth, no Turk, did bring This desolation, but a Christian king When nothing but the name of zeal appears 'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs ; What does he think our sacrilege would spare, When such th...
Page 87 - Then, daughter of O'Donnell! dry Thine overflowing eyes, and turn Thy heart aside. For Adam's race is born to die, And sternly the sepulchral urn Mocks human pride! Look not, nor sigh, for earthly throne, Nor place thy trust in arm of clay — But on thy knees Uplift thy soul to God alone, For all things go their destined way As he decrees.
Page 19 - To gather shells on sandy beach, and tempt the gloomy caves; To watch the flowing, ebbing tide, the boats, the crabs, the fish; Young men and maids to meet and smile, and form a tender wish; The sick and old in search of health, for all things have their turn — And I must quit my native shore, and the winding banks of Erne!
Page 106 - Lo ! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath, Behold, where he flies on his desolate path ! Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight; Rise, rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!
Page 96 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.
Page 18 - When the trout is rising to the fly, the salmon to the fall. The boat comes straining on her net, and heavily she creeps, Cast off, cast off !— she feels the oars, and to her berth she sweeps; Now fore and aft keep hauling, and gathering up the clue, Till a silver wave of salmon rolls in among the crew.
Page iii - On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays, When the clear, cold eve's declining, He sees the round towers of other days, In the wave beneath him shining! Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime, Catch a glimpse of the days that are over, Thus, sighing, look through the waves of time For the long-faded glories they cover!
Page 20 - Get up and shake your feet!" To "shanachus" and wise old talk of Erin's days gone by— Who trench'd the rath on such a hill, and where the bones may lie Of saint, or king, or warrior chief; with tales of fairy power, And tender ditties sweetly sung to pass the twilight hour. The mournful song of exile is now for me to learn— Adieu, my dear companions on the winding banks of Erne!
Page 19 - Tullen strand, Level and long, and white with waves, where gull and curlew stand; — Head out to sea when on your lee the breakers you discern! — Adieu to all the billowy coast, and winding banks of Erne!
Page 19 - And every pool where fins may rest, and ivy-shaded creek; The sloping fields, the lofty rocks, where ash and holly grow, The one split yew-tree gazing on the curving flood below; The Lough that winds through islands under Turaw mountain green; And Castle Caldwell's stretching woods, with tranquil bays between; And Breesie Hill, and many a pond among the heath and fern; — For I must say adieu — adieu to the winding banks of Erne!

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