The last days of O'Connell, papers written, or ed., by W.B. Maccabe

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Page 259 - It was a machine of wise and elaborate contrivance, and as well fitted for the oppression, impoverishment, and degradation of a people, and the debasement in them of human nature itself, as ever proceeded from the perverted ingenuity of man.
Page 263 - But alas! for his country — her pride is gone by, And that spirit is broken, which never would bend; O'er the ruin her children in secret must sigh, For 'tis treason to love her, and death to defend.
Page 274 - To Thee, O saintly WHITE, Patriarch of a wide-spreading family, Remotest lands and unborn times shall turn, Whether they would restore or build — to Thee, As one who rightly taught how zeal should burn, . As one who drew from out Faith's holiest urn The purest stream of patient Energy.
Page 274 - It was O'Connell's mission to teach mankind that Liberty was not estranged from Christianity, as was proclaimed by revolutionary France ; that she was not divorced from law and public order; that she was not a demon like Moloch, requiring to be propitiated with the blood of human sacrifice ; that democracy is the daughter of peace, and, like true religion, worketh by love. I see in Catholic emancipation, and in the repeal of the act of union between Great Britain and Ireland, only incidents of an...
Page 253 - ... land. The chimes rung out by pity for his countrymen were O'Connell's fitting knell ; his soul went forth on clouds of incense that rose from altars of Christian charity ; and the mournful anthems which recited the faith, and the virtue, and the endurance of Ireland, were his becoming requiem.
Page 255 - Far westward lies an isle of ancient fame, By nature blessed, and Scotia is her name, Enrolled in books ; exhaustless is her store Of veiny silver and of golden ore; Her fruitful soil for ever teems with wealth, With gems her waters, and her air with health; Her verdant fields with milk and honey flow, Her woolly fleeces vie with virgin snow; Her waving furrows float with bearded corn, . And arms and arts her envied sons adorn.
Page 113 - I was an eye to the blind, and a foot to the lame. I was the father of the poor: and the cause which I knew not, I searched out most diligently.
Page viii - said he it is my sentiment, and I am satisfied it is the sentiment, not only of every gentleman who now hears me, but of the Catholic people of Ireland, that if our opposition to this injurious, insulting, and hated measure of union were to draw upon us the revival of the penal laws, we would boldly meet...
Page 229 - O most holy Virgin Mary, that no one ever had recourse to your protection, implored your help, or sought your mediation, without obtaining relief. Confiding, therefore, in your goodness, behold me a penitent sinner sighing out my sins before you, beseeching you to adopt me for your son, and to take upon you the care of my eternal salvation. Despise not, O Mother of Jesus, the petition of your humble client, but hear and grant my prayer.
Page 273 - O'Connell done more than enough for fame ? On the lofty brow of Monticello, under a green old oak, is a block of granite, and underneath are the ashes of JEFFERSON. Read the epitaph—it is the sage's claim to immortality: — " Author of the Declaration of Independence and of the Statute for Religious Liberty.

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