The Poems of Thomas Davis |
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Common terms and phrases
AIR-The Amhalgaidh Annie Armagh army Ballads banner Bantry Bay battle Battle of Benburb bhán a stóir Blackwater blood brave castle cavalry Celt city of Luimneach clan Clare's Dragoons Connaught Cremona crúisgín lán Cuirassiers CYMRIC Dathi DAVIS dear death Dungannon Eibhlín a rúin English Eoghan fight flag Fontenoy gallant gan oidhir n-a genius Geraldines Glengarriff guard hand heart hill honour hope horse Ireland Irish Brigade Kinsale Limerick look Lord Luimneach linn-ghlas maiden Máire bhán Men of Harlech Monro mountain Munster Nation never numbers o'er O'Neill oidhir n-a bh-farradh Orange and Green Owen Roe OWEN ROE O'NEILL Poems poor exile proud rally regiment round sabre SACK OF BALTIMORE Sacsanach Sarsfield Saxon sing slain slave soldiers song soul spirit sweet sword thought Tipperary trees troops truagh gan oidhir TRUE IRISH KING Twas Ululu victory Vide Appendix Viva Vulgo wail wave weep
Popular passages
Page 133 - And full of love, and peace, and rest — its daily labour o'er — Upon that cosy creek there lay the town of Baltimore. A deeper rest, a starry trance, has come with midnight there; No sound, except that throbbing wave, in earth, or sea, or air, The massive capes, and ruined towers, seem conscious of the calm; The fibrous sod and stunted trees are breathing heavy balm. So still the night, these two long barques, round Dunashad that glide Must trust their oars— methinks not few — against the...
Page v - Wail, wail him through the Island! Weep, weep for our pride! Would that on the battle-field our gallant chief had died! Weep the victor of Benburb — weep him, young men and old; Weep for him, ye women — Your Beautiful lies cold! "We thought you would not die — we were sure you would not go, And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell's cruel blow — Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky — Oh! why did you leave us, Owen? Why did you die?
Page 75 - So come in the evening, or come in the morning : Come when you're looked for, or come without warning : Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you, And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you ! Light is my heart since the day we were plighted ; Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted ; The green of the trees looks far greener than ever, And the linnets are singing, " True lovers don't sever !
Page 110 - These Geraldines! these Geraldines! — not long our air they breathed; Not long they fed on venison, in Irish water seethed; Not often had their children been by Irish mothers nursed, When from their full and genial hearts an Irish feeling burst ! The English monarchs strove in vain by law, and force, and bribe, To win from Irish thoughts and ways this "more than Irish...
Page 75 - We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy, We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river, Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her.
Page 94 - And, from that time, through wildest woe, That hope has shone, a far light; Nor could love's brightest summer glow Outshine that solemn starlight: It seemed to watch above my head In forum, field, and fane; Its angel voice sang round my bed, 'A Nation once again'.
Page 31 - National poetry is the very flowering of the soul — the greatest evidence of its health, the greatest excellence of its beauty.
Page 136 - Oh ! some are for the arsenals, by beauteous Dardanelles ; And some are in the caravan to Mecca's sandy dells. The maid that Bandon gallant sought is chosen for the Dey...
Page 135 - Then sunk the grandsire on the floor, his grandbabes clutching wild ; Then fled the maiden moaning faint, and nestled with the child ; But see, yon pirate strangled lies, and crushed with splashing heel, While o'er him in an Irish hand there sweeps his Syrian steel — Though virtue sink, and courage fail, and misers yield their store...
Page 91 - SHE is a rich and rare land; Oh! she's a fresh and fair land, She is a dear and rare land — This native land of mine. No men than hers are braver — Her women's hearts ne'er waver; I'd freely die to save her, And think my lot divine. She's not a dull or cold land; No! she's a warm and bold land; Oh! she's a true and old land — This native land of mine.