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beauty beneath blessed bosom brave breast breath bride bright brow called cheek clouds cold comes dark dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fairy fall fear feel fell flow flowers gaze gentle give glory gold golden gone green hand hath hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour Irish Killeevy King lady land light lips live lonely look Lord maiden Mary moon morning mountain never night o'er ocean once pale pass pride proud rest rise rose round seen shining shore side sigh sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream summer sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought tree true voice wander waters wave weep wild wind woods young
Стр. 250 - TURN, gentle Hermit of the Dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow ; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thec to thy doom.
Стр. 20 - OH ! my dark Rosaleen, Do not sigh, do not weep ! The priests are on the ocean green, They march along the deep. There's wine from the royal Pope Upon the ocean green, And Spanish ale shall give you hope, My dark Rosaleen...
Стр. 28 - If I had thought thou couldst have died I might not weep for thee ; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be...
Стр. 290 - ... ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped: Our Anchor soon must change his bed of fiery rich array," For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of clay ; Our Anchor soon must change the lay of merry craftsmen here, For the Yeo-heave-o...
Стр. 340 - twas my ministry to deal the blow. The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns in tears the punishment was just.
Стр. 336 - Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard That generous actions meet a base reward. While thus they pass, the...
Стр. 115 - A BABY was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild raging sea ; And the tempest was swelling Round the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, " Dermot, darling, oh come back to me...
Стр. 29 - twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain. But when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid, And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary ! thou art dead. If thou would'st stay even as thou art, All cold, and all serene, I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been.