Irish minstrelsy, or Bardic remains of Ireland; with Engl. poetical translations. Collected and ed. with notes by J. Hardiman, Volume 1

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Joseph Robins, 1831

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Page 323 - It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision.
Page 161 - Mora here, and Una's here, And yonder's sporting Sally. Now frisk it round — aye, there's the sound Our sires were fond of hearing ; The harp rings clear — hear, gossip, hear ! O sure such notes are cheering ! Your health, my friend ! till life shall end May no bad chance betide us...
Page 145 - I've a heart — it can never be sad, When you smile at me full on the table; Surely you are my wife and brother — My only child — my father and mother — My outside coat — I have no other! Oh! I'll stand by you — while I am able.
Page 184 - Good Lord ! what a sight, After all their good cheer, For people to fight In the midst of their beer ! They rise from their feast, And hot are their brains, A cubit at least The length of their skeans3.
Page lxxii - OH ! if the atheist's words were true, If those we seek to save Sink — and, in sinking from our view, Are lost beyond the grave ! If life thus closed, how dark and drear Would this bewildered earth appear — Scarce worth the dust it gave : A tract of black sepulchral gloom, One yawning, ever-opening tomb...
Page 15 - Look on those eyes whence sleep hath flown, Bethink thee of my anguish ; My hopes — my thoughts — my destiny — All dwell, all rest, sweet girl, on thee. Young bud of beauty for ever bright, The proudest must bow before thee ; Source of my sorrow and my delight — Oh ! must...
Page 181 - V. cello (Edinb., 1801) ;An Historical Enquiry respecting the Performance of the Harp in the Highlands of Scotland, from the Earliest Times until it was discontinued about the year 1734 . . . (Edinb., 1807).
Page lxxx - The thoughts of the holy — the fair — the free, Belov'd in life or deplor'd in their fall ? Fling, fling the forms of art aside, Dull is the ear that these forms enthral ; Let the simple songs of our sires be tried, They go to the heart — and the heart is all.
Page lxiii - In all my wand'rings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting, by repose.
Page 9 - On our hallowed solitude, Where no kinsman's cold glance could annoy us ; Where peace and joy might shed Blended blessings o'er our bed, And love — love alone still employ us. Still, sweet maiden, may I see That I vainly talk of thee ; In vain in lost love I lie pining : I may worship from afar The beauty-beaming star That o'er my dull pathway keeps shining : But in sorrow and in pain Fond hope will remain, For rarely from hope can we sever ; Unchanged...

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