The Lay of an Irish Harp: Or, Metrical FragmentsE. Sargeant, D. Longworth, George Jansen, Alsop, Brannan & Alsop, Matthias Ward, E. Duyckinck, J. Osborn, T. & J. Swords, Campbell & Mitchell, M. Harrisson, Saml. A. Burtus, and Benj. Crane., 1808 - 152 Seiten |
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Anacreon bagatelle balmy beam beneath bliss bloom blush bosom breast breath'd breathe brow charm chase chill chords cold dance dart dear dearest delight dew'd dews didst thou doom'd dream drooping E'en e'er Epicure Erin's faded fair brow fairy fancy fancy's feeling flow flow'r flutt'ring fond fondly FRAGMENT fragrant frolic glance glow gorgon Harp heart heaven Helas hour idle IRISH HARP Irish jig kindred languish Love's lyre Metastasio midst MINSTREL BOY nature's ne'er passion pensive song pinion pleasure pow'r pulse raptured rose scarcely seem'd sensient Sensitive Plant shed o'er sigh sleeps smile snowy gem soft soothing sorrow soul SPANISH GUITAR steal stole suff'ring sweet sweetest sweetly Sympathy's syren tear tender thee thine eye Thou know'st thou wert thou'st thrill torpid transient trifle twas twill VIII vision VOLTAIRE warm wear wild wiles youthful zephyr's
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 24 - How soft the music of those village bells, Falling at intervals upon the ear In cadence sweet, now dying all away, Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on ! With easy force it opens all the cells Where Memory slept. Wherever I have heard A kindred melody, the scene recurs, And with it all its pleasures and its pains.
Seite 115 - Gallini tells us, that at Limoges, not long ago, the people used to dance the round in the choir of the church, which is under the invocation of their patron saint ; and at the end of each psalm, instead of the Gloria Patri, they sang as follows : u St. Marcel I pray for us, and we will dance in honour of you.
Seite 88 - Tis when the restless child of sorrow, Watching the wished-for rising morrow, His couch foregoes, And seeks 'midst scenes so sweet, so mild, To soothe those pangs so keen, so wild, Of hopeless woes. Nor day, nor night, this hour can claim, Nor moonlight ray, nor noontide beam, Does it betray ; But fresh, reviving, dewy, sweet, It hastes the glowing hours to meet Of rising day.
Seite 17 - I. Why sleeps the Harp of Erin's pride ? Why with'ring droops its Shamrock wreath ? Why has that song of sweetness died Which Erin's Harp alone can breathe...
Seite 86 - There is a soft and fragrant hour — Sweet, fresh, reviving is its power ; 'Tis when a ray Steals from the veil of parting night, And by its mild prelusive light Foretells the day. 'Tis when some ling'ring stars scarce shed O'er the mist-clad mountain's head Their fairy beam ; Then one by one retiring, shroud, Dim glitt'ring through a fleecy cloud, Their last faint beam. 'Tis when (just waked from transient death By some fresh zephyr's balmy breath), Th...
Seite 86 - THERE is a soft and fragrant hour — Sweet, fresh, reviving, is its power ; 'Tis when a ray Steals from the veil of parting night, And by its mild prelusive light, Foretells the day. 'Tis when some ling'ring stars scarce shed O'er the mist-clad mountain's head Their fairy beam ; Then one by one, retiring, shroud, Dim glitt'ring through a fleecy cloud, Their last faint gleam.
Seite 18 - twas the simplest, -wildest thing I The sighs of eve that faintest flow, O'er airy lyres, did never fling So sweet, so sad, a song of woe.
Seite 87 - While softly fly Those doubtful mists, that leave to view Each glowing scene of various hue That charms the eye. 'Tis when the sea-girt turret's brow Receives the east's first kindling glow, And the dark wave, Swelling to meet the orient gleam, Reflects the warmly-strength'ning beam It seems to lave.
Seite 20 - IX. It was beneath the loneliest cave That roofs the brow of misery, Or stems the ocean's wildest wave...
Seite 19 - VI. That not in sumptuous hall, or bow'r, To victor chiefs, on tented plain, To festive souls, in festal hour, Did he (sad bard !) pour forth the strain. VII. Oh no ! for he, opprest, pursued,* Wild, wand'ring, doubtful of his course, With tears his silent harp bedew'd, That drew from Erin's woes their source. VIII. It was beneath th...