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Air-The bard beam beauty believe bliss bowl break breath bright bring charm close cloud cold dark dear death deep dream drink drop earth Erin eyes fade fair fall fame farewell feel fields flowers Folly friends give glory gold golden gone grave green grief harp hath heart heaven hope hour Ireland Irish isle keep lake land leaves light lips live looks lost maiden meet morning ne'er never night o'er once pain pleasure proud pure Reason remember rest rose round shade shed shine shore sigh sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sparkled spirit spring star steal story sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou thought true Twas waked warm waters waves weep wherever wild wind young youth
Strona 6 - WHEN he, who adores thee, has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh ! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame Of a life that for thee was resign'd...
Strona 6 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid ; Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Strona 81 - Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone ; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone ; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem ; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may...
Strona 116 - Harp of my country ! in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, When proudly, my own Island Harp ! I unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song...
Strona 67 - She sings the wild song of her dear native plains. Every note which he loved awaking — Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!
Strona 109 - Oh, what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame, I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart : I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.
Strona 16 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Strona 8 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. — So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells ; The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives, Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that...
Strona 106 - And folly's all they've taught me. Her smile when Beauty granted, I hung with gaze enchanted, Like him the Sprite, Whom maids by night Oft meet in glen that's haunted. Like him, too, Beauty won me, But while her eyes were on me, If once their ray Was turned away O ! winds could not outrun me.
Strona 84 - Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee ! " The minstrel fell ! — but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under ; The harp he lov-ed ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder ; And said, " No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery ! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slavery...