The Dublin Book of Irish Verse 1728-1909John Cooke |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Arklow aroon Ballyshannon bán bawn beauty bird blow blue bonnie green woods Bouchaleen brave breast breath bright Cahir Healy cold dark Dark Rosaleen dawn dead dear death deep dream earth Eiré eyes fair flowers Gael glen glory gold golden gone grave grey grief hair hand hath hear heart heaven hills Ireland Irish Irish Volunteers Karaman Kathleen Kincora kiss land light lips lonely machree Mary moon morning mountain Munster ne'er never night o'er Owen Roe O'Neill Rapparees river Róisín Dubh Rory O'More rose round rúin Saxon Says the Shan Shan Van Vocht Shane O'Neill shining shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul stars streams sweet tears thee There's thine Thomas MacDonagh thou Twas voice wave weary weep wild wind wings woods of Killeevy
Popular passages
Page 33 - When I remember all The friends, so linked together, I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather; I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands "dead, And all but he departed!
Page 1 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Page 32 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Page 52 - 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, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Page 153 - THE BELLS OF SHANDON 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.
Page 40 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Page 8 - Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen; Here's to the widow of fifty; Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean, And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. Chorus. Let the toast pass, — Drink to the lass, I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.
Page 54 - 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...
Page 130 - O, 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...
Page 370 - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together ; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather...