The cabinet of Irish literature, with biogr. sketches and literary notices by C.A. Read (T.P. O'Connor).Charles Anderton Read 1880 |
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Стр. 6
... night he arrived , they made him a ' Monk of the Screw , ' and very soon made him forget his senatorial dignities . " And they nibbled away , both night and day , Like mice in a round of Glo'ster ; Great rogues they were all , both ...
... night he arrived , they made him a ' Monk of the Screw , ' and very soon made him forget his senatorial dignities . " And they nibbled away , both night and day , Like mice in a round of Glo'ster ; Great rogues they were all , both ...
Стр. 7
... night . We did the It was now a trial of address between these thing for him completely ; and all doubts as various and highly - gifted gentlemen who to the reality of the event are silenced by the should first pounce upon the victim ...
... night . We did the It was now a trial of address between these thing for him completely ; and all doubts as various and highly - gifted gentlemen who to the reality of the event are silenced by the should first pounce upon the victim ...
Стр. 10
... night I came up from Clew , no , nor the day that we rounded Tory Island . ” " Maybe not ; but it's not at its worst yet , " said the old fellow , who was ill - pleased at the sneer at his seamanship . " I don't know what the fellows ...
... night I came up from Clew , no , nor the day that we rounded Tory Island . ” " Maybe not ; but it's not at its worst yet , " said the old fellow , who was ill - pleased at the sneer at his seamanship . " I don't know what the fellows ...
Стр. 14
... night to be shot in a trench . To the tune of a fife They dispose of your life , You surrender your soul to some illigant lilt ; Now I like Garryowen , When I hear it at home , But it's not half so sweet when you're going to be kilt ...
... night to be shot in a trench . To the tune of a fife They dispose of your life , You surrender your soul to some illigant lilt ; Now I like Garryowen , When I hear it at home , But it's not half so sweet when you're going to be kilt ...
Стр. 24
... night . In palaces are hearts that ask , In discontent and pride , Why life is such a dreary task , And all good things denied . And hearts in poorest huts admire How love has in their aid ( Love that not ever seems to tire ) Such rich ...
... night . In palaces are hearts that ask , In discontent and pride , Why life is such a dreary task , And all good things denied . And hearts in poorest huts admire How love has in their aid ( Love that not ever seems to tire ) Such rich ...
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arms asked beautiful believe born Brian Boru brow called Charles Gavan Duffy chivalry Connla dark dead dear death door dream Dublin earth England English eyes face faith father feel French green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills honour horse hour human Innisfail Ireland Irish Irish literature Isaac Butt knew Lady land light Limerick literary living look Lord Lord Melbourne Melbourne House ment mind morning mother Mount Brandon Nathalie Nation nature never night o'er once ould passed passion poems poet poor RICHARD DALTON WILLIAMS Rose round scene seemed side silent song sorrow soul spirit story strong sweet tears tell thee things thou thought tion Trinity College true turned voice waves weary wife wild WILLIAM CONNOR MAGEE words young Young Ireland
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Стр. 172 - And no man dug that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er; For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.
Стр. 129 - I do not think he is entitled to say that his molecular groupings and his molecular motions explain everything. In reality they explain nothing. The utmost he can affirm is the association of two classes of phenomena, of whose real bond of union he is in absolute ignorance. The problem of the connection of body and soul is as insoluble in its modern form as it was in the pre-scientific ages.
Стр. 59 - The high sun sees not, on the earth, such fiery fearful show ; The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the ruddy lurid row Of smiths, that stand, an ardent band, like men before the foe; As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing monster, slow Sinks on the anvil — all about the faces fiery grow — "Hurrah!" they shout, "leap out— leap out;" bang, bang, the sledges go ; Hurrah'!
Стр. 301 - (she said), ' whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal boy ! This can unlock the gates of joy; Of horror that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.
Стр. 266 - There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.
Стр. 129 - ... the passage from the current to the needle, if not demonstrable, is thinkable, and that we entertain no doubt as to the final mechanical solution of the problem ; but the passage from the physics of the brain to the corresponding facts of consciousness is unthinkable. Granted that a definite thought and a definite molecular action in the brain occur simultaneously, we do not possess the intellectual organ, nor, apparently, any rudiment of the organ, which would enable us to pass by a process...
Стр. 59 - 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. 61 - twas thus the maidens cried, Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green ; And Anna laid the rock and the weary wheel aside — The fairest of the four, I ween. They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve, Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare ; The heavy-sliding stream in its sleepy song they leave. And the crags in the ghostly air. And linking...
Стр. 173 - With the incarnate Son of God. O lonely tomb in Moab's land! O dark Beth-peor's hill! Speak to these curious hearts of ours, And teach them to be still: God hath his mysteries of grace, Ways that we cannot tell, He hides them deep, like the secret sleep Of him he loved so well.
Стр. 77 - But the Sensitive Plant which could give small fruit Of the love which it felt from the leaf to the root, Received more than all, it loved more than ever, Where none wanted but it, could belong to the giver...