Excursions in Ireland During 1844 and 1850: With a Visit to the Late Daniel O'Connell, M.P.

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R. Bentley, 1852 - Ireland - 295 pages
 

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Page 238 - In Saint Sophia The Turkman gets, And loud in air Calls men to prayer From the tapering summit Of tall minarets. Such empty phantom 1 freely grant them ; But there is an anthem More dear to me, 'Tis the bells of Shandon That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the
Page 238 - 0 ! the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee. There's a bell in Moscow, While on tower and Kiosko ! In Saint Sophia The Turkman gets, And loud in air Calls men to prayer From the tapering summit Of tall minarets. Such empty phantom
Page 182 - Shake one, and it awakens, then apply Its polish'd lips to your attentive ear ; And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there !' " Would that I had you here to show you ' their august abode' in its most awful beauty. I could show you at noontide, when the stern south-wester had blown long and rudely, the
Page 24 - Who fears to speak of ninety-eight ? Who blushes at the name ? When cowards mock the patriot's fate, Who hangs his head for shame ? He 's all a knave, or half a slave, Who slights his country thus; But a true man., like you, man, Will fill your glass with us.
Page 25 - you, men, Are plenty here to-day. " Then here 's their memory—may it be For us a guiding light, To cheer our strife for liberty, And teach us to unite. Through good and ill, be Ireland's still, Though sad as theirs your fate ; And true men, be you, men, Like those of ninety-eight.
Page 237 - Lee. I've heard bells chiming Full many a clime in, Tolling sublime in Cathedral shrine, While at a glib rate Brass tongues would vibrate, But all their music Spoke nought like thine ; For memory dwelling, On each proud swelling Of thy belfry knelling Its bold notes free, Made the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the
Page 79 - No more along thy shores to come, But on the world's dim 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
Page 104 - When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower ;— ***** Then go—but go alone the while, And home returning soothly swear Was never scene so sad and fair.
Page 186 - But though glory be gone, And though hope fade away, Thy name, loved Erin, Shall live in his songs, Not e'en in the hour, When his heart is most gay, Will he lose the remembrance Of thee and thy wrongs!
Page 24 - s all a knave, or half a slave, Who slights his country thus; But a true man., like you, man, Will fill your glass with us.

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