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. 3
... pretty face , I feel that sort of emotion which Sydney Smith used to say the late Bishop of London rejoiced to contemplate in his clergy , " a kind of drop - down - deadness . " I cannot walk out , or drive out , or ride , or row out ...
... pretty face , I feel that sort of emotion which Sydney Smith used to say the late Bishop of London rejoiced to contemplate in his clergy , " a kind of drop - down - deadness . " I cannot walk out , or drive out , or ride , or row out ...
Стр. 46
... pretty invitashun he'd have to jine you gintlemen at 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 ...
... pretty invitashun he'd have to jine you gintlemen at 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 ...
Стр. 80
... pretty cot- tages , fuchsia - hedges , and general look of neatness and comfort , which it owes to Mr. Ellis , an English resident , and who , ( so it was told to me , as our friend Herodotus hath it ) is much respected , although a ...
... pretty cot- tages , fuchsia - hedges , and general look of neatness and comfort , which it owes to Mr. Ellis , an English resident , and who , ( so it was told to me , as our friend Herodotus hath it ) is much respected , although a ...
Стр. 104
... pretty bridge at Oughterarde , and biding farewell to Connamara . It has been , indeed , a privilege and refreshment to wander amid these glorious scenes , where " Hills peep o'er hills , and Alps on Alps arise , " and where nature ...
... pretty bridge at Oughterarde , and biding farewell to Connamara . It has been , indeed , a privilege and refreshment to wander amid these glorious scenes , where " Hills peep o'er hills , and Alps on Alps arise , " and where nature ...
Стр. 107
... pretty housemaid . I had my doubts as to the tale of a tub ; but Frank , at all events , thought it his duty to have an interview with the bereaved Meary , and returned there- from with one of his ears considerably enriched in colouring ...
... pretty housemaid . I had my doubts as to the tale of a tub ; but Frank , at all events , thought it his duty to have an interview with the bereaved Meary , and returned there- from with one of his ears considerably enriched in colouring ...
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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.