 THROUGH the long drear night I lie awake, for the sorrows of Innisfail. My bleeding heart is ready to break ; I cannot but weep and wail. Oh, shame and grief and wonder ! her sons crouch lowly under The footstool of the paltriest foe That ever yet hath...  Literature and the Irish Famine 1845-1919 - Page 195by Melissa Fegan - 2002 - 292 pagesLimited preview - About this book
 | James Clarence Mangan - English poetry - 1859 - 478 pages
...her sons crouch lowly under The footstool of the paltriest foe That ever yet hath wrought them woe! How long, O Mother of Light and Song, how long will...might wake the very Dead, Are piled on thy devoted head ! Thy castles, thy towers, thy palaces proud, thy stately mansions all, Are held by the knaves... | |
 | James Clarence Mangan - 1859 - 474 pages
...her sons crouch lowly under The footstool of the paltriest foe That ever yet hath wrought them woe! How long, O Mother of Light and Song, how long will...might wake the very Dead, Are piled on thy devoted head ! Thy castles, thy towers, thy palaces proud, thy stately mansions all, Are held by the knaves... | |
 | James Clarence Mangan - English poetry - 1866 - 472 pages
...her sons crouch lowly under The footstool of the paltriest foe That ever yet hath wrought them woe! How long, O Mother of Light and Song, how long will...might wake the very Dead, Are piled on thy devoted head ! Thy castles, thy towers, thy palaces proud, thy stately mansions all, Are held by the knaves... | |
 | Charles MacCarthy Collins - Composers - 1885 - 352 pages
...her sons crouch lowly under The footstool of the paltriest foe That ever yet hath wrought them woe ! How long, O Mother of Light and Song, how long will...sadness, while wrongs that should rouse them to madness, Thy castles, thy towers, thy palaces proud, thy stately mansions all, Are held by the knaves who crossed... | |
 | Charles MacCarthy Collins - English poetry - 1885 - 350 pages
...crouch lowly under The footstool of the paltriest foe That ever yet hath wrought them woe ! How long, 0 Mother of Light and Song, how long will they fail...sadness, while wrongs that should rouse them to madness, Thy castles, thy towers, thy palaces proud, thy stately mansions all, Are held by the knaves who crossed... | |
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