The Poets and Poetry of Munster: a Selection of Irish Songs by the Poets of the Last Century

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John O'Daly, 1850 - English poetry - 290 pages
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Page xvi - Wallenstein, when he and I were friends : Yet even then he had a daring soul : His frame of mind was serious and severe Beyond his years : his dreams were of great objects. He...
Page 277 - Eidir ! but ah, on thy brow I see a limping soldier, who battled and who bled Last year in the cause of the Stuart, though now The worthy is begging his bread...
Page 49 - Far dearer unto me than the tones music yields Is the lowing of the kine and the calves in her fields, And the sunlight that shone long long ago on the shields Of the Gaels, on the fair Hills of Eire, O ! DONOGH MACCON-MARA.
Page 65 - I SELL the best brandy and sherry, To make my good customers merry; But at times their finances Run short, as it chances And then I feel very sad, very!
Page 25 - ... daughter of the celestial powers. She chanted me a chant, a beautiful and grand hymn, Of him who should be shortly Eire's* reigning king — She prophesied the fall of the wretches who had banned him; And somewhat else she told me which I dare not sing. Trembling with many fears, I called on Holy Mary, As I drew nigh this fair, to shield me from all harm ; When, wonderful to tell, she fled far to the fairy Green mansion of Sliabh Luachra in terror and alarm ! O'er mountain, moor, and marsh, by...
Page 289 - I'll drink to thy beauty now ! When seeking to slumber, my bosom is rent with sighs — I toss on my pillow till morning's blest beams arise ; No aid, bright Beloved ! can reach me save God above, For a blood-lake is formed of the light of my eyes with love ! Until yellow Autumn shall usher the Paschal day, And Patrick's gay festival come in its train alway — Until through my coffin...
Page 47 - O, in heart and in soul, I shall ever, ever love The fair Hills of Eire, O ! A noble tribe, moreover, are the now hapless Gael, On the fair Hills of Eire, O ! A tribe in battle's hour unused to shrink or fail On the fair Hills of Eire, O ! For this is my lament in bitterness outpoured, To see them slain or scattered by the Saxon sword : O, woe of woes, to see a foreign spoiler horde...
Page 269 - Caura, the pride of thy house is gone by, But its name cannot fade, and its fame cannot die, Though the Arigideen, with its silver waves, shine Around no green forests or castles of thine — Though the shrines that you founded no incense doth hallow, Nor hymns float in peace down the echoing...
Page 273 - I'll journey to the north, over mount, moor, and wave; Twas there I first beheld drawn up, in file and line, The brilliant Irish hosts; they were bravest of the brave, But alas, they scorned to combine — Och, ochone!
Page 271 - O Patrick Sarsfield, may luck be on your path ! Your camp is broken up, your work is marred for years ; But you go to kindle into flame the King of France's wrath, Though you leave sick Eire in tears...

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