The Casket of Irish Pearls: A Selection of Prose and Verse from the Best Irish Writers

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Thornton MacMahon
J. Duffy, 1846 - Всего страниц: 240
 

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Стр. 175 - THEY tell us of an Indian tree, Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky May tempt its boughs to wander free, And shoot, and blossom, wide and high, Far better loves to bend its arms...
Стр. 45 - Although men are accused for not knowing their own weakness, yet perhaps as few know their own strength. It is in men as in soils, where sometimes there is a vein of gold, which the owner knows not of.
Стр. 43 - It is not so much the being exempt from faults, as the having overcome them, that is an advantage to us : it being with the follies of the mind, as with the weeds of a field, which, if destroyed and consumed upon the place of their birth, enrich and improve it more, than if none had ever sprung there.
Стр. 85 - The affirmative was languid but indisputable — another momentary pause ensued — again his lips seemed to decline their office : at length, with an eye averted from the object which he hated, he proclaimed, with a subdued voice,
Стр. 84 - The galleries were full, but the change was lamentable ; they were no longer crowded with those who had been accustomed to witness the eloquence and to animate the debates of that devoted assembly. A monotonous and melancholy murmur ran through the benches — scarcely a word was exchanged amongst the members — nobody seemed at ease — no cheerfulness was apparent — and the ordinary business, for a short time, proceeded in the usual manner.
Стр. 233 - ... your wisdom, and inevitably drive them from their post — and if you do, rely upon it, you will reduce the spirit of publication, and with it the press of this country, to what it for a long interval has been, the register of births and fairs, and funerals, and the general abuse of the people and their friends.
Стр. 50 - Kerner's tears are wept for withered flowers, Mine for withered hopes, my scroll of woe Dates, alas! from youth's deserted bowers, Twenty golden years ago! Yet, may Deutschland's bardlings flourish long, Me, I tweak no beak among them; — hawks Must not pounce on hawks: besides, in song I could once beat all of them by chalks. Though you find me as I near my goal, Sentimentalizing like Rousseau, O! I had a grand Byronian soul Twenty golden years ago!
Стр. 86 - kerchief, check'd with heavenly blue, Which once my love sat knotting in, Alas, Matilda then was true, At least I thought so at the U-niversity of Gottingen — -niversity of Gottingen.
Стр. 87 - Sun, moon, and thou, vain world, adieu, That kings and priests are plotting in; Here doomed to starve on water-gru-el, never shall I see the U-niversity of Gottingen,— -niversity of Gottingen.
Стр. 79 - I was brought hither in irons, like a felon. I mention this for the sake of others ; for me, I am indifferent to it ; I am aware of the fate which awaits me, and scorn equally the tone of complaint and that of supplication.

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