Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
28 'Tis this makes the earth, oh! what mortal could doubt it? A garden with it, but a desert without it! With the lov'd one, whose feelings instinctively teach her That goodness of heart makes the beauty of feature. How glad, through this vale, would I float down life's river, Enjoying God's bounty, and blessing the Giver! Sweetest of vales is the Vale of Shanganah! Greenest of vales is the Vale of Shanganah! May the accents of love, like the droppings of manna, Fall sweet on my heart in the Vale of Shanganah! 16. Lying to the south of Killiney-hill, near Dublin. 17. Hill of Howth. 18. Killarney. 19. The Sugarloaf Mountains, county Wicklow, were called in Irish, "The Spears of Gold." THE PILLAR TOWERS OF IRELAND. The pillar towers of Ireland, how wondrously they stand By the lakes and rushing rivers through the valleys of our land; In mystic file, through the isle, they lift their heads sublime, These gray old pillar temples, these conquerors of time! Beside these gray old pillars, how perishing and weak The Roman's arch of triumph, and the temple of the Greek, And the gold domes of Byzantium, and the pointed Gothic spires, All are gone, one by one, but the temples of our sires! The column, with its capital, is level with the dust, And the proud halls of the mighty and the calm homes of the just; For the proudest works of man, as certainly, but slower, Pass like the grass at the sharp scythe of the mower! But the grass grows again when in majesty and mirth,
29 On the wing of the spring, comes the Goddess of the Earth; But for man in this world no springtide e'er returns To the labours of his hands or the ashes of his urns! Two favourites hath Time--the pyramids of Nile, And the old mystic temples of our own dear isle; As the breeze o'er the seas, where the halcyon has its nest, Thus Time o'er Egypt's tombs and the temples of the West! The names of their founders have vanished in the gloom, Like the dry branch in the fire or the body in the tomb; But to-day, in the ray, their shadows still they cast-- These temples of forgotten gods--these relics of the past! Around these walls have wandered the Briton and the Dane-- The captives of Armorica, the cavaliers of Spain-- Phoenician and Milesian, and the plundering Norman Peers-- And the swordsmen of brave Brian, and the chiefs of later years! How many different rites have these gray old temples known! To the mind what dreams are written in these chronicles of stone! What terror and what error, what gleams of love and truth, Have flashed from these walls since the world was in its youth? Here blazed the sacred fire, and, when the sun was gone, As a star from afar to the traveller it shone; And the warm blood of the victim have these gray old temples drunk, And the death-song of the druid and the matin of the monk. Here was placed the holy chalice that held the sacred wine, And the gold cross from the altar, and the relics from the shrine, And the mitre shining brighter with its diamonds than the East, And the crosier of the pontiff and the vestments of the priest. Where blazed the sacred fire, rung out the vesper bell, Where the fugitive found shelter, became the hermit's cell; And hope hung out its symbol to the innocent and good, For the cross o'er the moss of the pointed summit stood. There may it stand for ever, while that symbol doth impart To the mind one glorious vision, or one proud throb to the heart;
- Page 1 and 2: 1 Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis P
- Page 3 and 4: 3 Spanish Literature," new edition,
- Page 5 and 6: 5 Many of the earlier poems here co
- Page 7 and 8: 7 4. The following are the titles a
- Page 9 and 10: 9 Remonstrance Ireland's Vow A Drea
- Page 11 and 12: 11 BALLADS AND LYRICS. WAITING FOR
- Page 13 and 14: 13 Like a dream. The blue smoke upw
- Page 15 and 16: 15 The golden bells that deck the f
- Page 17 and 18: 17 13. Near the town is the "Fairy
- Page 19 and 20: 19 That cometh with years-- Bitter
- Page 21 and 22: 21 Music-shaken, It doth waken, Hal
- Page 23 and 24: 23 Shudder at their midnight madnes
- Page 25 and 26: 25 Heart-enchanting, Cythna, Genevi
- Page 27: 27 When I have knelt in the temple
- Page 31 and 32: 31 Long as a Lapland winter, which
- Page 33 and 34: 33 My own dear isle! LOVE'S LANGUAG
- Page 35 and 36: 35 How poor or great may be my fate
- Page 37 and 38: 37 Truth, forget the constant beami
- Page 39 and 40: 39 Oh! none was to rival the prince
- Page 41 and 42: 41 At my window, late and early, In
- Page 43 and 44: 43 In fragrant sighs its heart reve
- Page 45 and 46: 45 For the summer is always there!
- Page 47 and 48: 47 The dread expanding force of the
- Page 49 and 50: 49 the agile spring so swift and li
- Page 51 and 52: 51 Though Domnal[42] it should be,
- Page 53 and 54: 53 Who hitherto have come to fight
- 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
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- Page 77 and 78: 77 With such an easy effort that it
29<br />
On the wing of the spring, comes the Goddess of the Earth;<br />
But for man in this world no springtide e'er returns<br />
To the labours of his hands or the ashes of his urns!<br />
Two favourites hath Time--the pyramids of Nile,<br />
And the old mystic temples of our own dear isle;<br />
As the breeze o'er the seas, where the halcyon has its nest,<br />
Thus Time o'er Egypt's tombs and the temples of the West!<br />
The names of their founders have vanished in the gloom,<br />
Like the dry branch in the fire or the body in the tomb;<br />
But to-day, in the ray, their shadows still they cast--<br />
These temples of forgotten gods--these relics of the past!<br />
Around these walls have wandered the Briton and the Dane--<br />
The captives of Armorica, the cavaliers of Spain--<br />
Phoenician and Milesian, and the plundering Norman Peers--<br />
And the swordsmen of brave Brian, and the chiefs of later years!<br />
How many different rites have these gray old temples known!<br />
To the mind what dreams are written in these chronicles of stone!<br />
What terror and what error, what gleams of love and truth,<br />
Have flashed from these walls since the world was in its youth?<br />
Here blazed the sacred fire, and, when the sun was gone,<br />
As a star from afar to the traveller it shone;<br />
And the warm blood of the victim have these gray old temples drunk,<br />
And the death-song of the druid and the matin of the monk.<br />
Here was placed the holy chalice that held the sacred wine,<br />
And the gold cross from the altar, and the relics from the shrine,<br />
And the mitre shining brighter with its diamonds than the East,<br />
And the crosier of the pontiff and the vestments of the priest.<br />
Where blazed the sacred fire, rung out the vesper bell,<br />
Where the fugitive found shelter, became the hermit's cell;<br />
And hope hung out its symbol to the innocent and good,<br />
For the cross o'er the moss of the pointed summit stood.<br />
There may it stand for ever, while that symbol doth impart<br />
To the mind one glorious vision, or one proud throb to the heart;