Ireland's Literary Renaissance, Volume 1 |
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Abbey Theatre Anglo-Irish literature appeared artistic Ballads of Young bardic beauty Celtic charm collaboration collected colour comedy contemporary criticism Cuculain Daniel Corkery Deirdre drama Dramatic Movement dramatist Dublin edited Edward Martyn English essays expression fairy Ferguson folk-drama Gaelic genius George Moore heroic humour Hyde's ideals idiom imagination intellectual interest Irish Literary Theatre Irish literature Irish National Theatre Irish poetry Irish Theatre J. M. Synge James Joyce John Eglinton Katharine Tynan Kiltartan Lady Gregory land language later legend Literary Revival London Lord Dunsany Lyrics Maeve material ment mind modern mystic narrative natural novel novelist Oisin original Padraic Colum patriotic peasant play Playboy playwrights poet poetic popular prose published realism rhyme sense Seumas Sigerson Society Songs of Connacht spirit Standish O'Grady story success Synge's talent theme tion Todhunter tradition tragedy Ulster Literary Theatre verse vision volume W. B. Yeats writers written Yeats's Young Ireland
Popular passages
Page 136 - Know, that I would accounted be True brother of that company, Who sang to sweeten Ireland's wrong, Ballad and story, rann and song; Nor be I any less of them, Because the red-rose-bordered hem Of her, whose history began Before God made the angelic clan, Trails all about the written page.
Page 139 - The Rose of the World Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, Mournful that no new wonder may betide, Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, And Usna's children died.
Page 269 - I'm in the way; And I will never move from where I stand." He said, "Dear child, I feared that you were dead,
Page 263 - What matter your foolish reply! O, man, standing lone and bowed earthward, " Your task is a day near its close. Give thanks to the night-giving God." Slowly the darkness falls, the broken lands blend with the savage; The brute-tamer stands by the brutes, a head's breadth only above them. A head's breadth? Ay, but therein is hell's depth, and the height up to heaven, And the thrones of the gods and their halls, their chariots, purples, and splendors.
Page 144 - For men improve with the years; And yet, and yet, Is this my dream, or the truth? O would that we had met When I had my burning youth! But I grow old among dreams, A weather-worn, marble triton Among the streams. THE COLLAR-BONE OF A HARE...
Page 144 - WHY should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, Or hurled the little streets upon the great, 44 Had they but courage equal to desire?
Page 323 - This grief of the keen is no personal complaint for the death of one woman over eighty years, but seems to contain the whole passionate rage that lurks somewhere in every native of the island. In this cry of pain the inner consciousness of the people seems to lay itself bare for an instant, and to reveal the mood of beings who feel their isolation in the face of a universe that wars on them with winds and seas.
Page 31 - But all around, in surging, tumultuous motion, come and go the gorgeous, unearthly beings that long ago emanated from bardic minds, a most weird and mocking world. Faces rush out of the darkness, and as swiftly retreat again. Heroes expand into giants, and dwindle into goblins, or fling aside the heroic form and gambol as buffoons...
Page 131 - Firbolgs' burial mounds, Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill Where passionate Maeve is stony still ; And found on the dove-gray edge of the sea A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode On a horse with bridle of findrinny ; And like a sunset were her lips, A stormy sunset on doomed ships; A citron colour gloomed in her hair, But down to her feet white vesture flowed, And with the glimmering crimson glowed Of many a figured embroidery ; And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell That wavered like the...
Page 37 - ... above him, panting, as a hound pants returning from the chase, and the war-demons passed out of him, and he looked upon Fardia, and a great sorrow overwhelmed him, and he lamented and moaned over Fardia, joining his voice to the howl of the people of Fardia, the great-hearted children of Mac Ere, and he took off the cath-barr from the head of Fardia, and unwound his yellow hair, tress after bright tress, most beautiful, shedding many tears, and he opened the battle-dress and took out the queen's...