The Percy Family--a Visit to Ireland

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Andrew F. Graves, 1859 - Ireland - 255 pages
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Page 164 - With deep affection and recollection I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle their magic spells. On this I ponder, where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee ; With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
Page 163 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican, And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame; But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly.
Page 167 - Then, perhaps, there's more wit and learning among the Irish? Oh, Lord, no! There has been more money spent in the encouragement of the Padareen mare there one season, than given in rewards to learned men since the time of Usher. All their productions in learning amount to perhaps a translation, or a few tracts in divinity; and all their productions in wit to just nothing at all.
Page 168 - Before Charles came hither my thoughts sometimes found refuge from severer studies among my friends in Ireland. I fancied strange revolutions at home, but I find it was the rapidity of my own motion that gave an imaginary one to objects really at rest. No alterations there. Some friends, he tells...
Page 24 - I, the undersigned, secretary of state of the United States of America, hereby request all whom it may concern, to permit safely and freely to pass, Domingo D'Arbel, a citizen of the United States, and in case of need, to give him all lawful aid and protection.
Page 167 - Scotchman's, who refused to be cured of the itch because it made him unco' thoughtful of his wife and bonny Inverary. "But, now, to be serious: let me ask myself what gives me a wish to see Ireland again. The country is a fine one, perhaps? No. There are good company in Ireland? No. The conversation there is generally made up of a smutty toast or a bawdy song; the vivacity supported by some humble cousin, who had just folly enough to earn his dinner.
Page 167 - Padareen mare there one season, than given in rewards to learned men since the time of Usher. All their productions in learning amount to perhaps a translation, or a few tracts in divinity; and all their productions in wit to just nothing at all. Why the plague, then, so fond of Ireland? Then, all at once, because you, my dear friend, and a few more who are exceptions to the general picture, have a residence there. This it is that gives me all the pangs I feel in separation. I confess I carry this...
Page 219 - is, without exception, the grandest, romanticest, awfulest sea-king's castle in broad Europe. It stands on a great ledge of a cliff, separated from, rather than joined to the mainland by the narrowest of natural bridges, and overhangs the sea — that dark, chilling, northern sea — so perpendicularly that how the towers and wall on the sea-side were built I cannot divine ; what numbers of masons and builders must have fallen into that gloomy sea before the last loophole was pierced...
Page 216 - Dark o'er the foam-white waves The Giant's Pier the war of tempests braves, A far-projecting, firm basaltic way Of clustering columns wedged in dense array; With skill so like, yet so surpassing art, With such design, so just in every part, That reason pauses, doubtful if it stand The work of mortal, or immortal hand.

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