Irish MelodiesJ. Power, 1821 - Всего страниц: 259 |
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Стр. 1
Thomas Moore. FIRST NUMBER . Rich and rare were the gems she wore , And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore ; B IRISH MELODIES . GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE . I. I.
Thomas Moore. FIRST NUMBER . Rich and rare were the gems she wore , And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore ; B IRISH MELODIES . GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE . I. I.
Стр. 3
Thomas Moore. IRISH MELODIES . GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE . I. Go where glory waits thee , But while fame elates thee , Oh ! still remember me . When the praise thou meetest To thine ear is sweetest , Oh ! then remember me . Other arms ...
Thomas Moore. IRISH MELODIES . GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE . I. Go where glory waits thee , But while fame elates thee , Oh ! still remember me . When the praise thou meetest To thine ear is sweetest , Oh ! then remember me . Other arms ...
Стр. 6
... glory remains on each sword , To light us to victory yet ! * Brien Borombe , the great Monarch of Ireland , who was killed at the battle of Clontarf , in the beginning of the 11th century , after having defeated the Danes in twenty ...
... glory remains on each sword , To light us to victory yet ! * Brien Borombe , the great Monarch of Ireland , who was killed at the battle of Clontarf , in the beginning of the 11th century , after having defeated the Danes in twenty ...
Стр. 11
... lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see ; But the next dearest blessing that heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee ! THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS . I. THE IRISH MELODIES . 11.
... lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see ; But the next dearest blessing that heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee ! THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS . I. THE IRISH MELODIES . 11.
Стр. 12
... glory's thrill is o'er , And hearts , that once beat high for praise , Now feel that pulse no more ! II . No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of TARA swells ; The chord , alone , that breaks at night , Its tale of ruin tells ...
... glory's thrill is o'er , And hearts , that once beat high for praise , Now feel that pulse no more ! II . No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of TARA swells ; The chord , alone , that breaks at night , Its tale of ruin tells ...
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airs AVOCA Bard battle of Clontarf beam beautiful bliss bosom bowers breath bright chain charm choro CICERO clouds cold crown'd dark dear death Ditto dream drink Dublin earth enharmonic ERIN ERIN's ev'n EVELEEN's eyes fade fair fame farewell feel flowers forget friends gloom glory grave Harp hath heart heaven hope hour Ireland Irish Harp Irish Melodies Irish Poetry isle Kilkenny Lady leave LESBIA light lips long a letter look'd lov'd Love's lute maiden Minstrel morning ne'er neral never night NORA CREINA o'er once Planxty pleasure pleasure's proud Red Branch remember rose round rove Saint Senanus shade Shamrock shed shine sigh Sir JOHN STEVENSON sleep smile song sorrow soul sparkled spirit star steal Steed sweet sword tear thee there's thine THIRD NUMBER THOMAS MOORE thro turn'd Twas wak'd wave weep wild wreath the bowl young youth
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Стр. 12 - 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.
Стр. 154 - DEAR 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...
Стр. 44 - 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...
Стр. 70 - 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 ev'n more false than they ; Oh ! 'tis only Music's strain Can sweetly soothe, and not betray ! IT IS NOT THE TEAR AT THIS MOMENT SHED.
Стр. 91 - 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.
Стр. 22 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ! f Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh ! no — it was something more exquisite still.
Стр. 122 - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Стр. 10 - 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.
Стр. 162 - ... us ! And when, in other climes, we meet Some isle or vale enchanting, Where all looks flowery, wild and sweet, And nought but love is wanting ; We think...
Стр. 149 - Ne'er tell me of glories serenely adorning The close of our day, the calm eve of our night : — Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of Morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's best light.