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Air.—The Bard battle of Clontarf beam beautiful bless'd bliss bosom bowers bowl breath bright brow buy my love-knots chain charm choly Cicero clouds cold dark death dream Dublin earth enharmonic Erin Erin's eyes fade farewell feel Fill the bumper flowers Folly forget friends gleam gloomy glory gondolier gone grave Harp hath heart Heaven hope hour Hymen Ireland Irish Harp IRISH MELODIES Irish Poetry isle leaves Lesbia light lips live long a letter look'd looks Love's lover lute maiden maids melan morning ne'er never night Nora Creina NUMBER o'er once pleasure pleasure's Portuguese remember round saint shade Shamrock shed shine sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sparkled spirit star steal sweet sword tears thee there's thine THOMAS MOORE thought to-night turn'd Twas wake warm waves weep wild woman young youth
Seite 16 - 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.
Seite 136 - 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...
Seite 133 - 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.
Seite 43 - Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me...
Seite 164 - 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.
Seite 88 - Music ! oh, how faint, how weak, Language fades before thy spell ! Why should Feeling ever speak, When thou canst breathe her soul so well ? Friendship's balmy words may feign. Love's are even more false than they ; Oh ! 'tis only Music's strain Can sweetly soothe, and not betray!
Seite 171 - Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine ; If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover, Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone ; I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over, And all the wild sweetness I wak'd was thy own.
Seite 111 - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him.