The History of Ireland: From the Earliest Period to the Year 1245, when the Annals of Boyle, which are Adopted and Embodied as the Running Text Authority, Terminate: with a Brief Essay on the Native Annalists, and Other Sources for Illustrating Ireland, and Full Statistical and Historical Notices of the Barony of Boyle, Volume 1

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Page 54 - Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme ; He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Page 56 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves; Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Page 55 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Page 54 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due: For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Page 55 - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.
Page 55 - Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep Where your old bards, the famous druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me, I fondly dream! Had ye been there — for what could that have done?
Page 136 - Thus saith the Lord of hosts, Consider ye, and call for the mourning women that they may come; and send for cunning women that they may come: 18 And let them make haste, and take up a wailing for us, that our eyes may run down with tears, and our eyelids gush out with waters.
Page 55 - Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, We drove a field, and both together heard What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn, Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night, Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev'ning, bright Toward Heav'ns descent had slop'd his westering wheel.
Page 55 - O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves, With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes mourn. The willows and the hazel copses green Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
Page 88 - there is a stone about seven feet high, and, when the inhabitants come near it, they take a religious turn round it, according to the ancient Druid custom.

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