A Little Tour in Ireland: Being a Visit to Dublin, Galway, Connamara, Athlone, Limerick, Killarney, Glengarriff, Cork, Etc. Etc. EtcBradbury & Evans, 1859 - Всего страниц: 220 |
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Стр. 11
... dinner , with a real curiosity on the subject . Frank C- not distinguished for deeds of naval daring , began , in the joy of his heart , to sing songs of an ultra - marine description , alluding to the land with severe disparagement ...
... dinner , with a real curiosity on the subject . Frank C- not distinguished for deeds of naval daring , began , in the joy of his heart , to sing songs of an ultra - marine description , alluding to the land with severe disparagement ...
Стр. 14
... dinner party ; fourthly , to fill up and drink . Frank suggests a soupçon of lemon ; and this was the sole point upon which , throughout our tour , we were not quite unanimous ! CHAPTER III . DUBLIN . THE next morning found us 14 A ...
... dinner party ; fourthly , to fill up and drink . Frank suggests a soupçon of lemon ; and this was the sole point upon which , throughout our tour , we were not quite unanimous ! CHAPTER III . DUBLIN . THE next morning found us 14 A ...
Стр. 30
... dinners and ourselves a little overdone at Morrisson's ; and nothing but some very transcendental claret , and the resilient spirit of roving Englishmen , could have induced us to sally forth once more for the gardens of Porto - Bello ...
... dinners and ourselves a little overdone at Morrisson's ; and nothing but some very transcendental claret , and the resilient spirit of roving Englishmen , could have induced us to sally forth once more for the gardens of Porto - Bello ...
Стр. 45
... dinner at Galway . It was brought to us , moreover , by a dear old waiter , who evidently had a proud delight in feeding us , as though he were some affectionate sparrow , and we his callow young , taking off the covers with a ...
... dinner at Galway . It was brought to us , moreover , by a dear old waiter , who evidently had a proud delight in feeding us , as though he were some affectionate sparrow , and we his callow young , taking off the covers with a ...
Стр. 46
... dinner . " This was followed by a small saddle of " Arran mutton , y'r onner ; " and " what can mortals wish for more , " except a soupçon of cheese ? Ah , but we felt almost ashamed of being so full and comfortable , when our ...
... dinner . " This was followed by a small saddle of " Arran mutton , y'r onner ; " and " what can mortals wish for more , " except a soupçon of cheese ? Ah , but we felt almost ashamed of being so full and comfortable , when our ...
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admire amid asked Athlone beautiful bitter beer Blarney Stone boat Boots called Castle Celt CHAPTER Church Claddagh Clifden Connamara Cork cottage dance delight dinner driver Dublin English eyes fair Famine fancy favour fish Frank Froissart's Chronicles Galway Gap of Dunloe gazed gentleman girls glad Glengarriff glorious grand green handsome happy hear heard heart hill horse Hotel Innisfallen Ireland Irish Irish elk Irishman Island JOHN LEECH Kenmare Killarney Killiney Kings Kylemore lady lake land legs Limerick look Lord miles morning mountains NATURE-PRINTED never once Oughterarde Paddy pass peace picturesque pleasant poor pretty refreshment reminded resembled rocks royal salmon scene scenery seemed shillelagh sing smile solemn song sorrow suggestive sweet table d'hôte thought told took tour tourist tower trees volume walk whiskey wild yer onour young
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Стр. 134 - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Стр. 206 - There is a stone there, that whoever kisses, Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent. 'Tis he may clamber to a lady's chamber, Or become a member of parliament: A clever spouter he'll sure turn out, or An out-and-outer, "to be let alone," Don't hope to hinder him, or to bewilder him; Sure he's a pilgrim from the Blarney stone!
Стр. 112 - Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play; For some must watch, while some must sleep; So runs the world away.
Стр. 134 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Стр. 19 - In allusion to this, Mr. Horace Walpole, who admired his writings, said he was "an inspired idiot; " and Garrick described him as one " for shortness call'd Noll, Who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor Poll...
Стр. 20 - ... little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honour and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult.
Стр. 58 - Twas at thy door, O friend! and not at mine, The angel with the amaranthine wreath, Pausing, descended, and with voice divine, Whispered a word that had a sound like Death. Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, A shadow on those features fair and thin ; And softly, from that hushed and darkened room, Two angels issued, where but one went in.
Стр. 159 - And eyne of lovely blue. O lady, he is dead and gone! Lady, he's dead and gone! And at his head a green grass turfe, And at his heels a stone.
Стр. 4 - TWAS in the prime of summer time, An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school : There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool. Away they sped with gamesome minds, And souls untouched by sin; To a level mead they came, and there They drave the wickets in : Pleasantly shone the setting sun Over...
Стр. 111 - THANK God, bless God, all ye who suffer not More grief than ye can weep for. That is well; That is light grieving ! lighter, none befell Since Adam forfeited the primal lot. Tears ! — what are tears ? The babe weeps in its cot, The mother singing; at her marriagebell The bride weeps ; and before the oracle Of high-faned hills the poet has forgot Such moisture on his cheeks.