Irish Monthly, Volume 421914 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 97
Page 2
... called them , burnt his castle to the ground . Back at Doneraile again , we spent the afternoon in the garden he loved so well . The long , narrow garden , a hortus conclusus , et disseptus , with its high trees and shrubs , the garden ...
... called them , burnt his castle to the ground . Back at Doneraile again , we spent the afternoon in the garden he loved so well . The long , narrow garden , a hortus conclusus , et disseptus , with its high trees and shrubs , the garden ...
Page 6
... called him back to Ireland than he had been to leave home originally and go into exile . Of the thirty - eight years that have elapsed since he returned to Ireland , the first four were spent in his native parish of Mallow . One of the ...
... called him back to Ireland than he had been to leave home originally and go into exile . Of the thirty - eight years that have elapsed since he returned to Ireland , the first four were spent in his native parish of Mallow . One of the ...
Page 9
... called to him , generally on Saturday afternoons when my work was done , and brought him books from my heterogeneous library , for his intellect was as keen as ever , and reading did not tire him . Some days he was quite bright and like ...
... called to him , generally on Saturday afternoons when my work was done , and brought him books from my heterogeneous library , for his intellect was as keen as ever , and reading did not tire him . Some days he was quite bright and like ...
Page 18
... called out : " Lend him your hand if you be his friend , for he is weak and cramped . Antrim air ill suits his constitution , and Antrim fare lies heavy on his stomach . " Then , at a word , the galley shoved off 18 THE IRISH MONTHLY.
... called out : " Lend him your hand if you be his friend , for he is weak and cramped . Antrim air ill suits his constitution , and Antrim fare lies heavy on his stomach . " Then , at a word , the galley shoved off 18 THE IRISH MONTHLY.
Page 19
... called before . The old chief to whom I bore the message , Sorley Boy MacDonald - Lord of the Glens and Route , as is his title here - is strong in Antrim and growing stronger , and Her Highness , who loves not the strong unless they be ...
... called before . The old chief to whom I bore the message , Sorley Boy MacDonald - Lord of the Glens and Route , as is his title here - is strong in Antrim and growing stronger , and Her Highness , who loves not the strong unless they be ...
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Common terms and phrases
asked beautiful bell birds Blessed Brian Brigid Brodir brother Burnham Abbey castle Catholic chief Christ Church Clan Clan Donald Clan MacLean Coll College Danes death Dublin Dunyvaig Dunyvaig Castle Earl Earl of Mar English eyes face faith Father Fring girl give glory Grace green hand heard heart hills Holy honour interest Ireland IRISH MONTHLY Islay James Jesuits Katharine Tynan King Lady Agnes light Lindisfarne live Lizzie look Lord Lough Derg Luggala MacLean Michael Field mind mother Mull Muriel never night once peace poems poet Polotsk Pope Pope Pius X praise prayer Price priest Queen readers Rhinns round seemed sing Sir Angus MacDonald Sir Lauchlan smile song soul spirit stood story sweet tell things thou thought told turned Ulster voice volume White Russia wonder words XLII.-No young
Popular passages
Page 216 - Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in...
Page 454 - Over dews, over sands, Will I fly for your weal: Your holy, delicate white hands Shall girdle me with steel. At home, in your emerald bowers, From morning's dawn till e'en, You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers, My Dark Rosaleen!
Page 455 - I could kneel all night in prayer, To heal your many ills! And one beamy smile from you Would float like light between My toils and me, my own, my true, My dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen! Would give me life and soul anew, A second life, a soul anew, My dark Rosaleen ! Oh!
Page 186 - If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it: that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again, it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear, like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets; Stealing and giving odour.
Page 64 - Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Page 140 - Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for the stars, the which he has set clear and lovely in heaven. Praised be my Lord for our brother, the wind, and for air and cloud, calms and all weather, by the which thou upholdest in life all creatures. Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very serviceable unto us, and humble, and precious, and clean.
Page 321 - I CHATTER over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
Page 66 - As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane ; The tane unto the t'other say, " Where sall we gang and dine to-day...
Page 453 - Little Jesus, wast Thou shy Once, and just so small as I? And what did it feel like to be Out of Heaven, and just like me? Didst Thou sometimes think of there, And ask where all the angels were? I should think that I would cry For my house all made of sky; I would look about the air, And wonder where my angels were; And at waking 'twould distress me Not an angel there to dress me! Hadst Thou ever any toys, Like us little girls and...
Page 533 - ... the human effort and sorrow going on perpetually from age to age, waves rolling for ever, and winds moaning for ever, and faithful hearts trusting and sickening for ever, and brave lives dashed away about the rattling beach like weeds...