Irish Protestant Letters, Etc., Etc. By R. R. B. Dublin: Also, an Address on Ireland, the Cradle of European Literature. By Rev. J. B. Finlay ... To which is Added a Choice Collection of Original and Selected PoetryDe Witt & Davenport, 1855 - 166 Seiten |
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Irish Protestant Letters, Etc., Etc. by R. R. B. Dublin: Also, an Address on ... Robert Redman Belshaw Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2018 |
Irish Protestant Letters, Etc., Etc. by R. R. B. Dublin: Also, an Address on ... Robert Redman Belshaw Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2018 |
Irish Protestant Letters, Etc., Etc. by R. R. B. Dublin: Also, an Address on ... Robert Redman Belshaw Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2017 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
American ancient Irish Anglo Saxon Antrim Armagh banner battle beauty Bede beneath bishop bless blood Boyne boys brave brave old world bright British Britons cause celebrated Celt century child Christian College crown Culdee daeg dark dead death deeds Derry Derry's Derry's walls despotism Dublin England English Erin Europe faith fame fathers feet foreign friends gallant glorious glory green hand hath heart heaven hills holy honor House of Stuart Huguenot Ireland Irish church Irish language Irish Protestant Irishman Isles Jesuit King land learning liberty Lisburn Lisnagarvey literature lived Lord massacre mighty mountain murdered nations native noble o'er Orangemen Papal Papists Phoenix Park Pope Popery Popish powder dry Reformation religion renowned Roman Rome Romish Scotland Scots shore sleep songs sons soul spirit stranger's heart sword thee thou true Ulster venerable warriors wave
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 108 - And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Seite 108 - Mayenne hath turned his rein. D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van, " Remember St. Bartholomew," was passed from man to man. But out spake gentle Henry, " No Frenchman is my foe : Down, down, with every foreigner, but let your brethren go.
Seite 35 - He heard it, but he heeded not, — his eyes Were with his heart, 'and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Daci.an mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday! — All this rushed with his blood. — Shall he expire And unavenged? — Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Seite 108 - Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the Golden Lilies — upon them with the lance. A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest ; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
Seite 108 - Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood; And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre.
Seite 76 - As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well ; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Seite 156 - Nothing can convince tyrants of their folly but gunpowder and steel, so put your trust in God my boys and keep your powder dry.
Seite 123 - I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine On the vine-clad hills of Bingen,— fair Bingen on the Rhine. "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along: I heard, or seemed to hear, The German songs we used to...
Seite 108 - Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre! Ho! maidens of Vienna! Ho! matrons of Lucerne! Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return: Ho! Philip, send for charity, thy Mexican pistoles. That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls!
Seite 34 - This is my own, my native land ?" Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign stand?