Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry

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Constable & Company, 1911 - English literature - 114 pages
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Page 27 - Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks to me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.
Page 27 - Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ...
Page 25 - I arise today Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, Through belief in the threeness, Through confession of the oneness Of the Creator of Creation.
Page 26 - I arise to-day Through God's strength to pilot me: God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me, God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me, God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me, God's way to lie before me, God's shield to protect me, God's host to...
Page 88 - She had seven periods of youth one after another, so that every man who had lived with her came to die of old age, and her grandsons and great-grandsons were tribes and races.
Page 99 - A hedge of trees surrounds me, A blackbird's lay sings to me; Above my lined booklet The trilling birds chant to me. In a grey mantle from the top of bushes The cuckoo sings: Verily— may the Lord shield me!— Well do I write under the...
Page ix - ... as the one haven of rest in a turbulent world overrun by hordes of barbarians, as the great seminary of Christian and classical learning, ' the quiet habitation of sanctity and literature...
Page 83 - DELIGHTFUL to be on the Hill of Howth Before going over the white-haired sea: The dashing of the wave against its face, The bareness of its shores and of its border. Delightful to be on the Hill of Howth After coming over the white-bosomed sea; To be rowing one's little coracle, Ochone! on -the wild-waved shore. Great is the speed of my coracle, And its stern turned upon Derry Grievous is my errand over the main, Travelling to Alba of the ravens.
Page 35 - Through eager crowds, through companies of wanton women, Through woods, through cities — swifter they are than the wind. Now through paths of loveliness, anon of riotous shame! Without a ferry or ever missing a step they go across every sea: Swiftly they leap in one bound from earth to heaven. They run a race of folly anear and afar: After a course of giddiness they return to their home. Though one should try to bind them or put shackles on their feet, They are neither constant nor mindful to take...
Page 3 - Unknown is wailing or treachery In the familiar cultivated land, There is nothing rough or harsh, But sweet music striking on the ear. Without grief, without sorrow, without death, Without any sickness, without debility, That is the sign of Emain — Uncommon is an equal marvel.

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