Fugitive Pieces, in Verse and ProseF.D. Finlay; and sold by R. Rees, 62, Pall-Mall, London; H. Fitzpatrick, Capel-Street, Dublin; and S. Archer, Belfast., 1815 - 228 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
arms assassin of Rome Belfast blessing blest blood breast breath Brothers blood Cæsar Cataline Cicero citizen constitution consul Cornelia curse death delight divine dread duty earth Erin ev'ning ev'ry eyes fair fame family compact fate father fear feel flame flow'rs FUGITIVE VERSES genius glory Gracchi grace hallow'd hand happy head heart Heav'n honour hope human Ireland King land liberty lictor lift light live mind moral mother native nature NEWRY night Numantia o'er plac'd poison'd political pow'r principles public peace racter ribs of death rise Roman Rome round savage sedition seem'd senate sense shine silent skies slaves smile soft soul spirit Spring sublime sweet sword taste tears TEUCER thee thine thou thro Tiberius Tiberius Gracchus TIBULLUS tomb tyrant vengeance virtue WILLIAM DRENNAN wings wish youth
Popular passages
Page 2 - Arm of Erin! prove strong; but be gentle as brave, And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save; Nor one feeling of vengeance presume to defile The cause, or the men of the EMERALD ISLE...
Page 73 - Wake him not with woman's cries ; Mourn the way that manhood ought Sit in silent trance of thought. Write his merits on your mind ; Morals pure and manners kind ; In his head, as on a hill, Virtue placed her citadel. Why cut off in palmy youth ? Truth he spoke, and acted truth. "Countrymen, UNITE," he cried, And died for what our Saviour died.
Page 10 - Passions spring up in a horrible dance ! Then prone on the earth, they adore in the dust, A man's baser half, rais'd, in room of his bust. Such orgies the nights of the drunkard display, But how black with ennui, how benighted his day ! With drams it begins, and with drams...
Page 171 - Rome be the mediators between me and thee; for, at present, you are much too near me. I will not suffer you, I will not longer undergo you. Lucius Catiline, away! Begin as soon as you are able this shameful and unnatural war. Begin it, on your part, under the shade of every dreadful omen; on mine, with the sure and certain hope...
Page 168 - Conscript Fathers, a camp is pitched against the Roman republic, within Italy, on the very borders of Etruria. Every day adds to the number of the enemy. The leader of those enemies, the commander of that encampment, walks within the walls of Rome; takes his seat in this senate, the heart of Rome; and, with venomous mischief, rankles in the inmost vitals of the commonwealth.
Page 111 - And duty, in its soft, though strict embrace. Plain, precious, pure, as best becomes the wife ; Yet firm to bear the frequent rubs of life. Connubial love disdains a fragile toy, Which rust can tarnish, or a touch destroy ; Nor much admires what courts the gen'ral gaze, The dazzling diamond's meretricious blaze, That hides, with glare, the anguish of a heart By nature hard, tho
Page 111 - By nature hard, tho' polish'd bright by art. More to thy taste the ornament that shows Domestic bliss, and, without glaring, glows ; Whose gentle pressure serves to keep the mind To all correct, to one discreetly kind . Of simple elegance th...
Page 2 - Erin make men. Let my sons like the leaves of the shamrock unite, A partition of sects from one footstalk of right, Give each his full share of the earth and the sky, Nor fatten the slave where the serpent would die.
Page 170 - Good and great gods ! where are we ? What city do we inhabit? Under what government do we live? Here, HERE, Conscript Fathers, mixed and mingled with us all — in the centre of this most grave and venerable assembly — are men sitting, quietly incubating a plot against my life, against all your lives; the life of every virtuous senator, and citizen: while I, with the whole nest of traitors brooding beneath my eyes, am parading in the petty formalities of debate; and the very men appear scarcely...
Page 1 - The em'rald of Europe, it sparkled and shone — In the ring of the world the most precious stone. In her sun, in her soil, in her station thrice blest, With her back towards Britain, her face to the West, Erin stands proudly insular on her steep shore, And strikes her high harp 'mid the ocean's deep roar. But when its soft tones seem to mourn and to weep, The dark chain of silence is thrown o'er the deep...