Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

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274 Placed on thy son's proud heart above The red rose or the fleur-de-lis? Yes, from these heights the waters beat, I vow to press thy cheek once more, And lie for ever at thy feet, O shamrock of the Irish shore! Boulogne-sur-Mer, March 17, 1865. ITALIAN MYRTLES. [Suggested by seeing for the first time fire-flies in the myrtle hedges at Spezzia.] By many a soft Ligurian bay The myrtles glisten green and bright, Gleam with their flowers of snow by day, And glow with fire-flies through the night, And yet, despite the cold and heat, Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet. There is an island in the West, Where living myrtles bloom and blow, Hearts where the fire-fly Love my rest Within a paradise of snow-- Which yet, despite the cold and heat, Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet. Deep in that gentle breast of thine-- Like fire and snow within the pearl-- Let purity and love combine, O warm, pure-hearted Irish girl! And in the cold and in the heat Be ever fresh, and pure, and sweet. Thy bosom bears as pure a snow As e'er Italia's bowers can boast, And though no fire-fly lends its glow-- As on the soft Ligurian coast--
275 'Tis warmed by an internal heat Which ever keeps it pure and sweet. The fire-flies fade on misty eves-- The inner fires alone endure; Like rain that wets the leaves, Thy very sorrows keep thee pure-- They temper a too ardent heat-- And keep thee ever pure and sweet. La Spezzia, 1862. THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S MOTHER. "Oh! come, my mother, come away, across the sea-green water; Oh! come with me, and come with him, the husband of thy daughter; Oh! come with us, and come with them, the sister and the brother, Who, prattling climb thy ag'ed knees, and call thy daughter--mother. "Oh come, and leave this land of death--this isle of desolation-- This speck upon the sunbright face of God's sublime creation, Since now o'er all our fatal stars the most malign hath risen, When Labour seeks the poorhouse, and Innocence the prison. "'Tis true, o'er all the sun-brown fields the husky wheat is bending; 'Tis true, God's blessed hand at last a better time is sending; 'Tis true the island's aged face looks happier and younger, But in the best of days we've known the sickness and the hunger. "When health breathed out in every breeze, too oft we've known the fever-- Too oft, my mother, have we felt the hand of the bereaver: Too well remember many a time the mournful task that brought him, When freshness fanned the summer air, and cooled the glow of autumn. "But then the trial, though severe, still testified our patience, We bowed with mingled hope and fear to God's wise dispensations; We felt the gloomiest time was both a promise and a warning, Just as the darkest hour of night is herald of the morning.
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1 Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis P
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3 Spanish Literature," new edition,
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5 Many of the earlier poems here co
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7 4. The following are the titles a
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9 Remonstrance Ireland's Vow A Drea
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11 BALLADS AND LYRICS. WAITING FOR
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13 Like a dream. The blue smoke upw
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15 The golden bells that deck the f
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17 13. Near the town is the "Fairy
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19 That cometh with years-- Bitter
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21 Music-shaken, It doth waken, Hal
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23 Shudder at their midnight madnes
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25 Heart-enchanting, Cythna, Genevi
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27 When I have knelt in the temple
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29 On the wing of the spring, comes
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31 Long as a Lapland winter, which
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33 My own dear isle! LOVE'S LANGUAG
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35 How poor or great may be my fate
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37 Truth, forget the constant beami
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39 Oh! none was to rival the prince
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41 At my window, late and early, In
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43 In fragrant sighs its heart reve
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45 For the summer is always there!
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47 The dread expanding force of the
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49 the agile spring so swift and li
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51 Though Domnal[42] it should be,
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53 Who hitherto have come to fight
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55 CUCHULLIN. If Conor's royal stre
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57 Unto the chariot, and he rode fu
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59 Last year it was in a vision of
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61 "Glad am I, O Cuchullin, thou ha
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63 Thence impetuous wilt thou grow,
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65 No, the great prize shall not by
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67 Like bees upon the wing on a fin
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69 And then they braced their two b
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71 And thus betwixt the twain this
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73 To fight the fight where my frie
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75 All these on me in turn shall so
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77 With such an easy effort that it
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79 As a huge mill-stone, cracking i
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81 He to have died and thou to have
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83 Ah! hapless deed, that still my
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85 First on the shore, as swift our
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87 The wave that swallows up the sh
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89 38. "The plains of Aie" (son of
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91 This, which it is to be presumed
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93 Like hooded monks before a dazzl
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95 I sought the rocky eastern isle,
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97 At length the long-expected morn
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99 Hail, spotless Virgin! mildest,
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101 Knowledge he tracked through ma
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103 But holding marble basilics and
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105 Her cold hands chilled the boso
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107 Bright, even as bright as those
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109 Rise up to God like morn and ev
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111 There never falls the rain-clou
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113 would be always visited and pro
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115 Sweetly the rising moonbeams pl
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117 To Desmond of the flowing strea
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119 If beauty decks with peerless c
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121 When all who live on Irish grou
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123 Thus rushed upon the doomed Mac
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125 Hangs the long leash that binds
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127 "If, when I reach my home to-ni
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129 "Thou'st bravely won an Irish b
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131 MacDonnells was at Glenarm. 85.
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133 And such was young Paolo! The m
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135 prayer. At morning when Paolo d
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137 And are bless'd in the name of
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139 But the tower in whose shade th
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141 Burning and withering, its drop
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143 his soul. For though sweet are
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145 Still some scenes are yet encha
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147 Need we say that Maurice loved
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149 As he sweepeth through the wild
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151 There's a crowding and a crushi
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153 100. The lusmore (or fairy cap)
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155 Advance! Through hope and work
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157 That can make thee rouse for it
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159 Still in the battle for Freedom
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161 Dark was my dream, though many
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163 Feel life has but one disaster,
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165 Who all the spring-time of thy
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167 We must spend the hour that fli
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169 The last great champion of the
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171 To be hushed, to be whipt, Its
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173 March 11th, 1856. 107. It is st
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175 A glorious wreath my happy hand
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177 Thine emerald robes are held fo
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179 Let us seek the wandering May,
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181 The wing`ed flame to the rosebu
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183 Of the life that follows this,
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185 Is with the flowers the time of
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187 Or following its devious course
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189 In Andalusia's Eden clime, Or '
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191 One, who is labour's useful tra
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193 Supports the mightiest crown on
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195 They twin'd their trembling han
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197 And grateful joy, the first and
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199 All their silvery stores, There
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201 Now with elf-locks dripping Fro
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203 Rises soaring to heaven in its
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205 Nought could resist his mighty
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207 The modest maiden May. Oh! she
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209 And as the thoughtless children
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211 And the young Year rose from hi
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213 THE FIRST OF THE ANGELS. Hush!
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215 And a blessing to the low. When
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217 Centenary Odes. O'CONNELL. AUGU
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219 And a voice rings out through t
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221 But soon had come the final com
Page 223 and 224: 223 And grateful hearts invoked a b
Page 225 and 226: 225 He slept by the soft Ligurian S
Page 227 and 228: 227 In words though weak, in hues t
Page 229 and 230: 229 The Homer of the West. He sings
Page 231 and 232: 231 'Twas thus he sang, And while t
Page 233 and 234: 233 The whole horizon fills. Or the
Page 235 and 236: 235 The wit and song, the name and
Page 237 and 238: 237 In visiting some bower, She sca
Page 239 and 240: 239 'Tis Love, methought, blind Lov
Page 241 and 242: 241 Thou by my side, fair vision, u
Page 243 and 244: 243 Where scarce a flower that now
Page 245 and 246: 245 Ah! wondrous is the lot of him
Page 247 and 248: 247 And rob the heavens of stars fo
Page 249 and 250: 249 What without me were all the po
Page 251 and 252: 251 RECOLLECTIONS. Ah! summer time,
Page 253 and 254: 253 Near to the lilacs round the po
Page 255 and 256: 255 DOLORES. The moon of my soul is
Page 257 and 258: 257 Of thy young heart's fond ambit
Page 259 and 260: 259 'Tis Baiae, by a softer blue! G
Page 261 and 262: 261 The songs melodious, which--a n
Page 263 and 264: 263 The poet's dream--the lover's j
Page 265 and 266: 265 And the ivy clothes the wall, T
Page 267 and 268: 267 Let the spring-tide of Hope sen
Page 269 and 270: 269 DARRYNANE. [Written in 1844, af
Page 271 and 272: 271 115. The abbey on the grounds o
Page 273: 273 Like thee, when wet with heaven
Page 277 and 278: 277 Their names be written in the B
Page 279 and 280: 279 August 28, 1870. 119. Written d
Page 281 and 282: 281 or 'girrinna.' The bird, at lea
Page 283 and 284: 283 Ferdiah. line 69 [birds sing] {
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Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

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