Irish melodies

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Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1852 - 165 頁
 

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第 6 頁 - 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.
第 64 頁 - 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.
第 10 頁 - Lady ! dost thou not fear to stray, " So lone and lovely through this bleak way ? " Are Erin's sons so good or so cold, " As not to be tempted by woman or gold ? " " Sir Knight ! I feel not the least alarm, " No son of Erin will offer me harm :— " For though they love woman and golden store, " Sir Knight ! they love honour and virtue more...
第 37 頁 - 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.
第 12 頁 - There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; 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 her soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh!
第 11 頁 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
第 31 頁 - And thus, I thought, our fortunes run, For many a lover looks to thee, While oh! I feel there is but one, One Mary in the world for me.
第 48 頁 - 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.
第 14 頁 - How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent sea; For then sweet dreams of other days arise, And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. And, as I watch the line of light, that plays Along the smooth wave tow'rd the burning west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And think 'twould lead to some bright isle of rest.
第 73 頁 - tis vain to curse, 'Tis weakness to upbraid thee ; Hate cannot wish thee worse, Than guilt and shame have made thee.

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