The Cabinet of Irish Literature: Selections from the Works of the Chief Poet, Orators, and Prose Writers of Ireland, Volume 1Blackie and Son, 1893 - Irish literature |
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Page 2
... cries and lamentings would echo around ! O'Mulcoury is to be found at present in the library of Trinity College , Dublin . Of the other works of Keating many were a few years ago , and possibly still are , well known traditionally to ...
... cries and lamentings would echo around ! O'Mulcoury is to be found at present in the library of Trinity College , Dublin . Of the other works of Keating many were a few years ago , and possibly still are , well known traditionally to ...
Page 9
... cried out in Irish with exultant mockery , " Say your verses now , my little man ! " ] ADVICE TO A PRINCE.1 How serious is the task , how vastly great , To teach a prince his duty to the state ! ' Tis his each blessing on the land to ...
... cried out in Irish with exultant mockery , " Say your verses now , my little man ! " ] ADVICE TO A PRINCE.1 How serious is the task , how vastly great , To teach a prince his duty to the state ! ' Tis his each blessing on the land to ...
Page 17
... cries And groans of woe ! If on the day the Saxon host Were forced to fly - a day so great For Ashanee- The chief had been untimely lost , Our conquering troops should moderate Their mirthful glee . There would not lack on Lifford's day ...
... cries And groans of woe ! If on the day the Saxon host Were forced to fly - a day so great For Ashanee- The chief had been untimely lost , Our conquering troops should moderate Their mirthful glee . There would not lack on Lifford's day ...
Page 46
... cried out for justice , and were not heard ; they cried for mercy , and found it not ; and such as live of those oppressed souls are still crying to heaven and the king for remedy . Poor , desolate , and dejected , they are waiting at ...
... cried out for justice , and were not heard ; they cried for mercy , and found it not ; and such as live of those oppressed souls are still crying to heaven and the king for remedy . Poor , desolate , and dejected , they are waiting at ...
Page 76
... cries for is not married , I find . Mrs. S. But I wonder , friend , that in so many good services you had not a better pro- vision made for you . thee , pouts for thee , and snubs for thee ; the poor little heart of it is like to burst ...
... cries for is not married , I find . Mrs. S. But I wonder , friend , that in so many good services you had not a better pro- vision made for you . thee , pouts for thee , and snubs for thee ; the poor little heart of it is like to burst ...
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Common terms and phrases
Amergin ancient appeared beauty better born breast caliph called charms Clyster court cried daughter dear death Decius died Dublin Earl England English Enter Essex eyes fair fame father favour Finnachta fortune gentleman give hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven holy orders honour hope husband Ireland Irish Irish language king labour Lady land learned live London look Lord lover madam marriage married Maximian Milesian mind Miss nature never Niece night o'er Ogygia Oroo Oroonoko Orson passion person pleasure poem poet poor praise Pray prince queen reason Sackbut servant soon soul speak sure SUSANNA CENTLIVRE sweet Swift Tatler tell thee things thou thought tion took translated Trinity College Tristram Shandy uncle Toby virtue wife word write wrote Yorick young youth
Popular passages
Page 270 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs— and God has given my share — I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose. I still had hopes— for pride attends us still — Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell, of all I felt, and all I saw...
Page 310 - I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell ; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell : God knoweth ;) such an one caught up to the third heaven.
Page 272 - Where the dark scorpion gathers death around ; Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey. And savage men more murderous still than they; While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies.
Page 273 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed...
Page 257 - Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, When it is in the power of thine hand to do it. Say not unto thy neighbour, Go, and come again, And to-morrow I will give; When thou hast it by thee.
Page 269 - Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen. And Desolation saddens all thy green : One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain ; No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way ; Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest...
Page 238 - He shall not drop." said my uncle Toby, firmly. "A-well-o'day, do what we can for him, said Trim, maintaining his point,; "the poor soul will die." "He shall not die, by G— !" cried my uncle Toby. The Accusing Spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in, and the Recording Angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever.
Page 269 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please...
Page 272 - And pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour When idly first, ambitious of the town, She left her wheel and robes of country brown. Do thine, sweet AUBURN, thine, the loveliest train, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain...
Page 270 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.