The Lyrics of IrelandSamuel Lover Houlston and Wright, 1858 - Всего страниц: 360 |
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
admirable aisy Arrah ballad Ballyhaunis bard beauty bosom bottle boys bright bumper called Carolan celebrated CHARLES LEVER charming cheek Curran cushla ma chree darling dear drink Dublin Eileen aroon Erin fair fal de ral fame father feeling Garryowen GERALD GRIFFIN girl give glory gra-ma-chree green heart Heaven honour Ireland Irish Melodies Irishman JOHN BANIM John Barham JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN Kathleen Kilkenny lady LADY MORGAN land lines Lochaber look Lord lyric maid Malone Moore Music of Ireland native ne'er never night o'er O'More Ochone ould Paddy poet Queen rhymes river Lee Rory Rory O'More round SAMUEL FERGUSON SAMUEL LOVER Savourneen deelish Sheridan Shillelah sigh sing sleep smile Soggarth aroon song soul sung sure sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou true twas verse whiskey Widow Machree wild wine words young
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Стр. 190 - But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Стр. 155 - WITH deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, In the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee ; With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Стр. 78 - Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow: Now to her that's as brown as a berry : Here's to the wife with a face full of woe, And now to the damsel that's merry.
Стр. 289 - For the yeo-heave-o , and the heave-away, and the sighing seaman's cheer, When, weighing slow, at eve they go, far, far from love and home; And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam.
Стр. 6 - The corn was springin' fresh and green, And the lark sang loud and high, And the red was on your lip, Mary, And the love-light in your eye. The place is little changed, Mary, The day is bright as then, The lark's loud song is in my ear, And the corn is green again; But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, And your breath, warm on my cheek: And I still keep list'nin' for the words You never more will speak.
Стр. 155 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's Mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican, And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame ; But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly. O, the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Стр. 64 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Стр. 63 - I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip, But where my own did hope to sip.
Стр. 225 - O! the Erne shall run red With redundance of blood, The earth shall rock beneath our tread, And flames wrap hill and wood, And gun-peal, and slogan cry, Wake many a glen serene, Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die, My Dark Rosaleen!
Стр. 267 - Oh cruel fate ! wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace — where no perils can chase me? Never again shall my brothers embrace...