Moore's Irish Melodies

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Addison, Hollier and Lucas, 1859 - Folk music - 233 pages
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Page 101 - 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.
Page 133 - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Page 175 - That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still. Dear Harp of my Country ! farewell to thy numbers, This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine...
Page 45 - Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me...
Page 47 - No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close ; As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose.
Page 81 - Music ! oh how faint, how weak, Language fades before thy spell ! Why should Feeling ever speak, When thou canst breathe her soul so well ? Friendship's balmy words may feign, Love's are ev'n more false than they ; Oh ! 'tis only Music's strain Can sweetly soothe, and not betray ! IT IS NOT THE TEAR AT THIS MOMENT SHED.
Page 25 - Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 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 216 - But, on the world's rude ocean tost, Dream of thee sometimes, as a home Of sunshine he had seen and lost. Far better in thy weeping hours To part from thee, as I do now, When mist is o'er thy blooming bowers, Like sorrow's veil on beauty's brow. For, though...
Page 19 - 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 woman and golden store, " Sir Knight ! they love honour and virtue more...
Page 3 - Oh ! then remember me. When, around thee dying, Autumn leaves are lying, Oh ! then remember me. And, at night, when gazing, On the gay hearth blazing, Oh ! still remember me. Then, should music, stealing All the soul of feeling, To thy heart appealing, Draw one tear from thee ; Then let memory bring thee Strains I used to sing thee, — Oh ! then remember me.

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