The Glories of Ireland

Front Cover
Joseph Dunn, Patrick Joseph Lennox
Phoenix, Limited, 1914 - 357 pages

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Page 320 - And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings ; There midnight 's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
Page 330 - O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
Page 287 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school.
Page 69 - ... there is no nation of people under the sun that doth love equal and indifferent justice better than the Irish ; or will rest better satisfied with the execution thereof although it be against themselves; so as they may have the protection and benefit of the law, when upon just cause they do desire it.
Page 285 - The elf-queen, with hir joly companye, Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede; This was the olde opinion, as I rede. I speke of manye hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see none elves mo. For now the grete charitee and prayeres...
Page 319 - Corrymeela, an' the low south wind. D'ye mind me now, the song at night is mortial hard to raise, The girls are heavy goin' here, the boys are ill to plase; When one'st I'm out this workin' hive, 'tis I'll be back again— Ay, Corrymeela, in the same soft rain.
Page 136 - As a soldier, as a commander of troops, as a man capable of doing all that is possible with any number of men, there is no man living greater than Sheridan.
Page 154 - Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans ; that he called these butchers " armed negotiators," and stood with a metaphor in his mouth, and a bribe in his pocket, a champion against the rights of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the only refuge of the liberties of mankind.
Page 91 - THE pillar towers of Ireland, how wondrously they stand By the lakes and rushing rivers through the valleys of our land ; In mystic file, through the isle, they Lift their heads sublime, These gray old pillar temples, these conquerors of time...
Page 321 - These, through the darkness of death, the dominion of night, Swept, and they woke in white places at morning tide : They saw with their eyes, and sang for joy of the sight, They saw with their eyes the Eyes of the Crucified.

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