Irish Monthly, Volume 421914 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 85
Page 9
... speaking , and as the years go by I am more and more inclined to keep to my desk . " However , he came in the end , and gave us a delightful lecture on " The Literary Life " ( October 18 , 1906 ) . Few people are prophets in their own ...
... speaking , and as the years go by I am more and more inclined to keep to my desk . " However , he came in the end , and gave us a delightful lecture on " The Literary Life " ( October 18 , 1906 ) . Few people are prophets in their own ...
Page 18
... speak later , " came from the galley , and then a thin , timid voice made itself heard : " Are you the ' Spitfire ' of Plymouth , with Francis Drake on board ? " " Yes ! " answered the lieutenant before Drake could speak , " and I think ...
... speak later , " came from the galley , and then a thin , timid voice made itself heard : " Are you the ' Spitfire ' of Plymouth , with Francis Drake on board ? " " Yes ! " answered the lieutenant before Drake could speak , " and I think ...
Page 20
... speak truth . " " Alas ! Master Drake , it is too true , and my unlucky threat was my undoing . But for that I might have been dismissed , but that fierce savage who spoke to you from the boat jesting words about my poor stomach stepped ...
... speak truth . " " Alas ! Master Drake , it is too true , and my unlucky threat was my undoing . But for that I might have been dismissed , but that fierce savage who spoke to you from the boat jesting words about my poor stomach stepped ...
Page 27
... speaking , but has not Pope Leo XIII . said as much : “ A very small number of rich men have been able to lay on the masses of the poor a yoke little better than slavery itself . ” * Applied to Ireland the state of affairs amounts to ...
... speaking , but has not Pope Leo XIII . said as much : “ A very small number of rich men have been able to lay on the masses of the poor a yoke little better than slavery itself . ” * Applied to Ireland the state of affairs amounts to ...
Page 31
... speak of the fatal beauty of a daughter of Adam for whose sake many a brave warrior died . Yet this prince from the North neither loved nor was loved by a fairy . The shadow of a beautiful mortal woman's jealousy fell across the light ...
... speak of the fatal beauty of a daughter of Adam for whose sake many a brave warrior died . Yet this prince from the North neither loved nor was loved by a fairy . The shadow of a beautiful mortal woman's jealousy fell across the light ...
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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...