Translation From the Gull Language
‘Twas grav’d on the Stone of Destiny, In letters four, and letters three; And ne’er did the King of the Gulls go by But those awful letters scar’d his eye; For he knew that
I Saw From the Beach
I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o’er the waters move gloriously on; I came when the sun o’er that beach was declining, The bark was still there, but
Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own
Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own, In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone, Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers, And the bee banquets on
Avenging and Bright
Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin On him who the brave sons of Usna betray’d! For every fond eye he hath waken’d a tear in A drop from his heart-wounds shall
The Time I've Lost In Wooing
The time I’ve lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman’s eyes, Has been my heart’s undoing. Tho’ Wisdom oft has sought me, I scorn’d the lore she brought
Befire the Battle
By the hope within us springing, Herald of to-morrow’s strife; By that sun, whose light is bringing Chains or freedom, death or life Oh! remember life can be No charm for him, who lives
As Vanquish'd Erin
As vanquish’d Erin wept beside The Boyne’s ill-fated river, She saw where Discord, in the tide, Had dropp’d his loaded quiver. “Lie hid,” she cried, “ye venom’d darts, Where mortal eye may shun you;
Ode to the Sublime Porte
Great Sultan, how wise are thy state compositions! And oh, above all, I admire that Decree, In which thou command’st, that all she politicians Shall forthwith be strangled and cast in the sea. ‘Tis
Dialogue Between a Sovereign and a One-Pound Note
Said a Sov’reign to a Note, In the pocket of my coat, Where they met in a neat purse of leather, “How happens it, I prithee, That though I’m wedded with thee, Fair Pound,
Oh, Could We Do With This World of Ours
Oh, could we do with this world of ours As thou dost with thy garden bowers, Reject the weeds and keep the flowers, What a heaven on earth we’d make it! So bright a
The Origin of the Harp
Tis believed that this Harp, which I wake now for thee Was a Siren of old, who sung under the sea; And who often, at eve, through the bright waters roved, To meet, on
We May Roam Through This World
We may roam through this world, like a child at a feast, Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest; And, when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east,
There Are Sounds of Mirth
There are sounds of mirth in the night-air ringing, And lamps from every casement shown; While voices blithe within are singing, That seem to say “Come,” in every tone. Ah! once how light, in
Oh! Blame Not the Bard
Oh! blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at Fame; He was born for much more, and in happier hours His soul might have burn’d with
Cotton and Corn
Said Cotton to Corn, t’other day, As they met and exchang’d salute (Squire Corn in his carriage so gay, Poor Cotton, half famish’d on foot): “Great Squire, if it isn’t uncivil To hint at