Illustrious Irishwomen: Being Memoirs of Some of the Most Noted Irishwomen from the Earliest Ages to the Present Century, Volume 2Tinsley brothers, 1877 - Ireland |
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Illustrious Irishwomen: Being Memoirs of Some of the Most Noted ..., Volume 2 E Owens B 1848 Blackburne No preview available - 2016 |
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acquainted admiration amongst appeared authoress beautiful BORN brilliant brother Castle character Charlotte Brooke charm Conolly Countess daughter dear death Diary died Dublin Duchess Edgeworthstown Elizabeth father feelings friendship gave genius girl give Gunning happy heart Hemans honour husband Ireland Irish Irish Poetry Irishwomen Kilkenny ladies of Llangollen Lady Betty Fownes Lady Blessington Lady Eleanor Butler Lady Louisa Lady Morgan Lady Stirling-Maxwell letter literary literature lived Llangollen London Lord Magazine Maria Edgeworth marriage married Mary Mary Tighe Memoirs mind Miss Brooke Miss Butler Miss Edgeworth Miss Pons Miss Ponsonby mother never novel o'er Owenson poems poet poetess poetry Porter published residence Richard Lovell Edgeworth Robert Emmet Sarah Curran says Sheridan sister society song soul story Sydney Sydney Owenson thou thought Tighe tion took whilst wife woman Woodstock writing written wrote young
Popular passages
Page 328 - And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment: so Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many: and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto salvation.
Page 235 - My blessin' and my pride ! There's nothing left to care for now, Since my poor Mary died. Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary, That still kept hoping on, When the trust in God had left my soul, And my arm's young strength was gone ; There was comfort ever on your lip, And the kind look on your brow — I bless you, Mary, for that same, Though you cannot hear me now. I thank you for the patient smile When your heart was fit to break, When the hunger pain was gnawin...
Page 340 - The most delicate and cherishing attentions were paid her by families of wealth and distinction. She was led into society, and they tried by all kinds of occupation and amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from the tragical story of her loves. But it was all in vain. There are some strokes of calamity that scathe and scorch the soul — that penetrate to the vital seat of happiness — and blast it, never again to put forth bud or blossom.
Page 341 - The person who told me her story had seen her at a masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it in such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, lonely and joyless where all around is gay ; to see it dressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so wan and woebegone as if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sorrow.
Page 343 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing: But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking— Ah ! little they think, who delight in her strains. How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!
Page 259 - Fainter her slow step falls from day to day, Death's hand is heavy on her darkening brow ; Yet doth she fondly cling to earth and say : " I am content to die, but oh ! not now ! Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring Make the warm air such luxury to breathe ; Not while the birds such lays of gladness sing ; Not while bright flowers around my footsteps wreathe. Spare me, great God, lift up my drooping brow ! I am content to die — but, oh ! not now...
Page 340 - To render her widowed situation more desolate, she had incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate attachment, and was an exile from the paternal roof. But could the sympathy and kind offices of friends have reached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she would have experienced no want of consolation, for the Irish are a people of quick and generous sensibilities.
Page 75 - Deans-looking body,' as we Scotch say — and, if not handsome, certainly not ill-looking. Her conversation was as quiet as herself. One would never have guessed she could write her name ; whereas her father talked, not as if he could write nothing else, but as if nothing else was worth writing.
Page 71 - Ceres' shrine; For dull, to humid eyes, appear The golden glories of the year; Alas! a melancholy worship's mine; I hail the goddess for her scarlet flower; Thou brilliant weed! That dost so far exceed The richest gifts gay Flora 2 can bestow; 10 Heedless I pass'd thee in life's morning hour, Thou comforter of woe!
Page 341 - ... as if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sorrow. After strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy crowd with an air of utter abstraction...