The Catholic keepsake1843 |
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Page xxii
... thee . Hast thou ne'er felt , in Pleasure's giddy whirl , A thrilling sense of sadness steal o'er thee , When , in thy fancy's strong imaginings , Some pictured scene of misery would rise , In vivid contrast , to the brilliant throng ...
... thee . Hast thou ne'er felt , in Pleasure's giddy whirl , A thrilling sense of sadness steal o'er thee , When , in thy fancy's strong imaginings , Some pictured scene of misery would rise , In vivid contrast , to the brilliant throng ...
Page 11
... thee , no one to shelter thee ? Is God merciful , and will not man be merciful ? Does Christ say , " Go , and sin no more ; thy sins are forgiven thee , " and does man say , " Because thou hast sinned , thou may'st sin again , for we ...
... thee , no one to shelter thee ? Is God merciful , and will not man be merciful ? Does Christ say , " Go , and sin no more ; thy sins are forgiven thee , " and does man say , " Because thou hast sinned , thou may'st sin again , for we ...
Page 27
... Thee shrink ? Thou ! -a God ! Have they the power To make Thine eye so lustreless ? The burthen of the world is there ! The weight of man's transgression ! Language has not power to express The misery , the extent of punishment , A God ...
... Thee shrink ? Thou ! -a God ! Have they the power To make Thine eye so lustreless ? The burthen of the world is there ! The weight of man's transgression ! Language has not power to express The misery , the extent of punishment , A God ...
Page 40
... thee now ! Yet , if at thine altar one holy thought In man's deep spirit of old hath wrought , If peace to the mourner hath here been given , Or prayer from a chastened heart to Heaven , Be the spot still hallowed while Time shall reign ...
... thee now ! Yet , if at thine altar one holy thought In man's deep spirit of old hath wrought , If peace to the mourner hath here been given , Or prayer from a chastened heart to Heaven , Be the spot still hallowed while Time shall reign ...
Page 57
... thee still ; it hovers over every sacred but neglected shrine , it speaks from the desecrated altar , it mourns over the tombs of the ancient dead , speak- ing from the kneeling figures on the monuments , which in sculpture , though ...
... thee still ; it hovers over every sacred but neglected shrine , it speaks from the desecrated altar , it mourns over the tombs of the ancient dead , speak- ing from the kneeling figures on the monuments , which in sculpture , though ...
Common terms and phrases
Abbey altar appeared Asylum attended beautiful bestowed blessed brother Castle Catholic chapel charity child Church Clanricarde Clifden comfort Connemara consolation daughter dead death devo devoted district door duties Earl of Clanricarde endeavour enter father felt Fingal friends Galway gaol grief half-past Hammersmith happy Hardwicke heard heart Heaven holy humble Ireland Irish island Kilcolgan Killarney kneeling labour looked Lough Derg magistrate Market Cross miles mind misery monks mother mountain never night Norah Na Kistla Northumbria Ossian Oullins ourselves parents passed path peace penitents pilgrim soul portion prayed prayer Prie-Dieu priest prisoners recollection religion religious ladies repentance returned rocks Roundstone saints scene seemed Shepherd shore Sisters Sisters of Charity sorrows soul spirit sufferings thee thou thought tion Tombs town vice virtue visited voice wandering Westminster Abbey wife young
Popular passages
Page 42 - I HEARD a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord : even so saith the Spirit ; for they rest from their labours.
Page 157 - O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me; hear my voice; hear me, sons of my love!
Page 157 - Rise, moon! from behind thy clouds. Stars of the night, arise! Lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the chase alone! his bow near him, unstrung: his dogs panting around him. But here I must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love!
Page 157 - It is night; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds ! Rise, moon!
Page 185 - Thou hast no mother to mourn thee, no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan. "Who on his staff is this? Who is this whose head is white with age, whose eyes are red with tears, who quakes at every step?
Page 157 - O wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard around. Let my wanderer hear me! Salgar! it is Colma who calls. Here is the tree and the rock. Salgar, my love! I am here. Why delayest thou thy coming?
Page 187 - Before morning appeared her voice was weak. It died away, like the evening breeze among the grass of the rocks. Spent with grief, she expired; and left thee, Armin, alone. Gone is my strength in war! fallen my pride among women! When the storms aloft arise; when the north lifts the wave on high; I sit by the sounding shore, and look on the fatal rock. Often by the setting moon, I see the ghosts of my children. Halfviewless, they walk in mournful conference together.
Page 192 - I do not hesitate for a moment to say, that the scenery in passing from Clifden to the Killeries and Leenane is the finest in Ireland. In boldness of character, nothing at Killarney comes at all near to it ; and although the deficiency of wood excludes the possibility of a competition with Killarney in picturesque beauty, I am certainly of opinion, that the scenery of this part of...
Page 186 - All night I stood on the shore. I saw her by the faint beam of the moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind; the rain beat hard on the hill. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak. It died away, like the evening breeze among the grass of the rocks.
Page 157 - Who lie on the heath beside me? Are they my love and my brother? Speak to me, O my friends! To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me: I am alone! My soul is tormented with fears! Ah! they are dead! Their swords are red from the fight.