Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
106 Such was the brother's tale of earthly love-- He ceased, and sadly bowed his reverend head: For us, we wept, and raised our eyes above, And sang the 'De Profundis' for the dead. A freshening breeze played on our moistened cheeks, The far horizon oped its walls of light, And lo! with purple hills and sun-bright peaks A glorious isle gleamed on our gladdened sight, THE PARADISE OF BIRDS. "Post resurrectionis diem dominicae navigabitis ad altam insulam ad occidentalem plagam, quae vocatur PARADISUS AVIUM."--"Life of St. Brendan," in Capgrave, fol. 45. It was the fairest and the sweetest scene-- The freshest, sunniest, smiling land that e'er Held o'er the waves its arms of sheltering green Unto the sea and storm-vexed mariner:-- No barren waste its gentle bosom scarred, Nor suns that burn, nor breezes winged with ice, Nor jagged rocks (Nature's grey ruins) marred The perfect features of that Paradise. The verdant turf spreads from the crystal marge Of the clear stream, up the soft-swelling hill, Rose-bearing shrubs and stately cedars large All o'er the land the pleasant prospect fill. Unnumbered birds their glorious colours fling Among the boughs that rustle in the breeze, As if the meadow-flowers had taken wing And settled on the green o'er-arching trees. Oh! Ita, Ita, 'tis a grievous wrong, That man commits who uninspired presumes To sing the heavenly sweetness of their song-- To paint the glorious tinting of their plumes-- Plumes bright as jewels that from diadems Fling over golden thrones their diamond rays--
107 Bright, even as bright as those three mystic gems, The angel bore thee in thy childhood's days.[60] There dwells the bird that to the farther west Bears the sweet message of the coming spring;[61] June's blushing roses paint his prophet breast, And summer skies gleam from his azure wing. While winter prowls around the neighbouring seas, The happy bird dwells in his cedar nest, Then flies away, and leaves his favourite trees Unto this brother of the graceful crest.[62] Birds that with us are clothed in modest brown, There wear a splendour words cannot express; The sweet-voiced thrush beareth a golden crown,[63] And even the sparrow boasts a scarlet dress.[64] There partial nature fondles and illumes The plainest offspring that her bosom bears; The golden robin flies on fiery plumes,[65] And the small wren a purple ruby wears.[66] Birds, too, that even in our sunniest hours, Ne'er to this cloudy land one moment stray, Whose brilliant plumes, fleeting and fair as flowers, Come with the flowers, and with the flowers decay.[67] The Indian bird, with hundred eyes, that throws From his blue neck the azure of the skies, And his pale brother of the northern snows, Bearing white plumes, mirrored with brilliant eyes.[68] Oft in the sunny mornings have I seen Bright-yellow birds, of a rich lemon hue, Meeting in crowds upon the branches green, And sweetly singing all the morning through.[69] And others, with their heads greyish and dark, Pressing their cinnamon cheeks to the old trees, And striking on the hard, rough, shrivelled bark, Like conscience on a bosom ill at ease.[70] And diamond birds chirping their single notes, Now 'mid the trumpet-flower's deep blossoms seen,
- Page 55 and 56: 55 CUCHULLIN. If Conor's royal stre
- Page 57 and 58: 57 Unto the chariot, and he rode fu
- Page 59 and 60: 59 Last year it was in a vision of
- Page 61 and 62: 61 "Glad am I, O Cuchullin, thou ha
- Page 63 and 64: 63 Thence impetuous wilt thou grow,
- Page 65 and 66: 65 No, the great prize shall not by
- Page 67 and 68: 67 Like bees upon the wing on a fin
- Page 69 and 70: 69 And then they braced their two b
- Page 71 and 72: 71 And thus betwixt the twain this
- Page 73 and 74: 73 To fight the fight where my frie
- Page 75 and 76: 75 All these on me in turn shall so
- Page 77 and 78: 77 With such an easy effort that it
- Page 79 and 80: 79 As a huge mill-stone, cracking i
- Page 81 and 82: 81 He to have died and thou to have
- Page 83 and 84: 83 Ah! hapless deed, that still my
- Page 85 and 86: 85 First on the shore, as swift our
- Page 87 and 88: 87 The wave that swallows up the sh
- Page 89 and 90: 89 38. "The plains of Aie" (son of
- Page 91 and 92: 91 This, which it is to be presumed
- Page 93 and 94: 93 Like hooded monks before a dazzl
- Page 95 and 96: 95 I sought the rocky eastern isle,
- Page 97 and 98: 97 At length the long-expected morn
- Page 99 and 100: 99 Hail, spotless Virgin! mildest,
- Page 101 and 102: 101 Knowledge he tracked through ma
- Page 103 and 104: 103 But holding marble basilics and
- Page 105: 105 Her cold hands chilled the boso
- Page 109 and 110: 109 Rise up to God like morn and ev
- Page 111 and 112: 111 There never falls the rain-clou
- Page 113 and 114: 113 would be always visited and pro
- Page 115 and 116: 115 Sweetly the rising moonbeams pl
- Page 117 and 118: 117 To Desmond of the flowing strea
- Page 119 and 120: 119 If beauty decks with peerless c
- Page 121 and 122: 121 When all who live on Irish grou
- Page 123 and 124: 123 Thus rushed upon the doomed Mac
- Page 125 and 126: 125 Hangs the long leash that binds
- Page 127 and 128: 127 "If, when I reach my home to-ni
- Page 129 and 130: 129 "Thou'st bravely won an Irish b
- Page 131 and 132: 131 MacDonnells was at Glenarm. 85.
- Page 133 and 134: 133 And such was young Paolo! The m
- Page 135 and 136: 135 prayer. At morning when Paolo d
- Page 137 and 138: 137 And are bless'd in the name of
- Page 139 and 140: 139 But the tower in whose shade th
- Page 141 and 142: 141 Burning and withering, its drop
- Page 143 and 144: 143 his soul. For though sweet are
- Page 145 and 146: 145 Still some scenes are yet encha
- Page 147 and 148: 147 Need we say that Maurice loved
- Page 149 and 150: 149 As he sweepeth through the wild
- Page 151 and 152: 151 There's a crowding and a crushi
- Page 153 and 154: 153 100. The lusmore (or fairy cap)
- Page 155 and 156: 155 Advance! Through hope and work
106<br />
Such was the brother's tale of earthly love--<br />
He ceased, and sadly bowed his reverend head:<br />
For us, we wept, and raised our eyes above,<br />
And sang the 'De Profundis' for the dead.<br />
A freshening breeze played on our moistened cheeks,<br />
The far horizon oped its walls of light,<br />
And lo! with purple hills and sun-bright peaks<br />
A glorious isle gleamed on our gladdened sight,<br />
THE PARADISE OF BIRDS.<br />
"Post resurrectionis diem dominicae navigabitis ad altam insulam ad<br />
occidentalem plagam, quae vocatur PARADISUS AVIUM."--"Life of St.<br />
Brendan," in Capgrave, fol. 45.<br />
It was the fairest and the sweetest scene--<br />
The freshest, sunniest, smiling land that e'er<br />
Held o'er the waves its arms of sheltering green<br />
Unto the sea and storm-vexed mariner:--<br />
No barren waste its gentle bosom scarred,<br />
Nor suns that burn, nor breezes winged with ice,<br />
Nor jagged rocks (Nature's grey ruins) marred<br />
The perfect features of that Paradise.<br />
The verdant turf spreads from the crystal marge<br />
Of the clear stream, up the soft-swelling hill,<br />
Rose-bearing shrubs and stately cedars large<br />
All o'er the land the pleasant prospect fill.<br />
Unnumbered birds their glorious colours fling<br />
Among the boughs that rustle in the breeze,<br />
As if the meadow-flowers had taken wing<br />
And settled on the green o'er-arching trees.<br />
Oh! Ita, Ita, 'tis a grievous wrong,<br />
That man commits who uninspired presumes<br />
To sing the heavenly sweetness of their song--<br />
To paint the glorious tinting of their plumes--<br />
Plumes bright as jewels that from diadems<br />
Fling over golden thrones their diamond rays--
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