Songs of Ireland and Other Lands: Being a Collection of the Most Popular Irish, Sentimental and Comic SongsD. & J. Sadlier & Company, 1847 |
من داخل الكتاب
النتائج 1-5 من 54
الصفحة 23
... blue , I ever saw except in summer skies . And such black hair ! it is the blackest hair That ever rippled over neck so fair . " Tell him old Pincher fretted many a day , And moped , poor dog , ' t was well he did n't die , Crouched by ...
... blue , I ever saw except in summer skies . And such black hair ! it is the blackest hair That ever rippled over neck so fair . " Tell him old Pincher fretted many a day , And moped , poor dog , ' t was well he did n't die , Crouched by ...
الصفحة 25
... blue sea . ' Twas the lap of a west looking moun tain , Its woody slope bright with the glow , Where sang by a murmuring fountain , COLLEEN DA'S CROOTIA NA MO . Dark clouds where a gold tinge reposes But picture her brown , wavy hair ...
... blue sea . ' Twas the lap of a west looking moun tain , Its woody slope bright with the glow , Where sang by a murmuring fountain , COLLEEN DA'S CROOTIA NA MO . Dark clouds where a gold tinge reposes But picture her brown , wavy hair ...
الصفحة 47
... blue , Lay scattered o'er the fields s ; Such fragrance in the bosom lies Of her whom I adore . Ah , gramachree , & c . I laid me down upon a bank , Bewailing my sad fate , That doomed me thus the slave of love , And cruel Molly's hate ...
... blue , Lay scattered o'er the fields s ; Such fragrance in the bosom lies Of her whom I adore . Ah , gramachree , & c . I laid me down upon a bank , Bewailing my sad fate , That doomed me thus the slave of love , And cruel Molly's hate ...
الصفحة 50
... to merry France , France , France ; Let us drink a last adieu to merry France . To Erin , comrades , too , And her sunny skies of blue , A goblet commingled with tears ! With the fleur - de - lis divine , The 50 THE EMERALD SONGSTER .
... to merry France , France , France ; Let us drink a last adieu to merry France . To Erin , comrades , too , And her sunny skies of blue , A goblet commingled with tears ! With the fleur - de - lis divine , The 50 THE EMERALD SONGSTER .
الصفحة 80
... blue lips of thine- I lay my hand upon thy heart , " Tis cold at last to mine . Were we beneath our native heaven , Within our native land-- A fairer grave to thee were given Than this wild bed of sand . But thou wert single in thy ...
... blue lips of thine- I lay my hand upon thy heart , " Tis cold at last to mine . Were we beneath our native heaven , Within our native land-- A fairer grave to thee were given Than this wild bed of sand . But thou wert single in thy ...
المحتوى
117 | |
119 | |
127 | |
131 | |
132 | |
137 | |
144 | |
160 | |
112 | |
113 | |
120 | |
121 | |
140 | |
145 | |
147 | |
151 | |
166 | |
174 | |
177 | |
182 | |
184 | |
186 | |
191 | |
193 | |
198 | |
202 | |
205 | |
208 | |
209 | |
225 | |
242 | |
243 | |
252 | |
262 | |
278 | |
307 | |
319 | |
9 | |
16 | |
19 | |
26 | |
33 | |
47 | |
54 | |
68 | |
69 | |
81 | |
99 | |
163 | |
168 | |
176 | |
184 | |
188 | |
212 | |
216 | |
229 | |
233 | |
235 | |
241 | |
243 | |
246 | |
250 | |
255 | |
258 | |
269 | |
271 | |
2 | |
15 | |
23 | |
28 | |
49 | |
53 | |
63 | |
70 | |
78 | |
105 | |
119 | |
129 | |
137 | |
138 | |
145 | |
147 | |
150 | |
200 | |
219 | |
230 | |
242 | |
263 | |
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Annie Lisle Ballyporeen Barney O'Hea beautiful Ben Bolt bird blarney bless blooming bonnie boys brave bride bright Charlie charming cheer Colleen Bawn colleen dhas cruthin Constantinople cottage cruthin darling dream Dublin lasses e'er Erin Erin's eyes fair farewell Fermoy flowers friends Garnavilla GEORGE LINLEY girl God save Ireland gone green happy heart Highland hills hone Isle jaunting car Johnny Sands Kate Kathleen kiss Lady land lassie live lonely love thee lover maid maiden Malone Mary Mary Astore mavourneen merry minstrel boy Molly dear morning mother mountains ne'er never night Norah o'er Old Ireland Ould poor ral lal river Lee roam round SAMUEL LOVER shamrock Shan van Vocht shining shore shuile sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow star sure sweet tears tell there's thine thou thousand a-year true Twas voice wave wear weep wild young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 15 - I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter! — Oh, my daughter!
الصفحة 8 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
الصفحة 9 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
الصفحة 112 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha, for Scotland's King and Law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free-man stand, or Free-man fa', Let him follow me!
الصفحة 8 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
الصفحة 51 - 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.
الصفحة 54 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
الصفحة 160 - ... flee, But I have no refuge from famine and danger, A home and a country remain not to me. Never again, in the green sunny bowers, Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours, .Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers, And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh...
الصفحة 14 - The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. " O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.
الصفحة 54 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly, at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning, By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...