 BURIAL-PLACE. Ah me! and must I like the tenant lie Of this dark cell, all hushed the witching song; And will not feeling bend his streaming eye On my green sod, as slow he wends along, And, smiting his rapt bosom, softly sigh, " His genius soared above...  The Harp of Erin: Containing the Poetical Works - Page 252by Thomas Dermody - 1807Full view - About this book
 | Hercules Ellis - 1849 - 296 lehte
...Now pour its wave along my grave, my narrow island home. THE BURIAL PLACE. Song. DERMODY. Ah, me 1 and must I like the tenant lie Of this dark cell, all hushed the witching song ; And will not feeling bend his streaming eye On my green sod, as slow he... | |
 | Charles Anderton Read - 1879 - 390 lehte
...unfolding blooms with care benign, And 'mid them weave one laurel leaf of thine. THE BURIAL-PLACE. Ah me! and must I like the tenant lie Of this dark cell, all hushed the witching song; And will not feeling bend his streaming eye On my green sod, as slow he wends... | |
 | Charles MacCarthy Collins - 1885 - 350 lehte
...lightened my pain. THOMAS DERMODY. (Said to have been written when he was ten years old. ) MY BURIAL-PLACE. AH me ! and must I like the tenant lie Of this dark cell — all hushed the witching song? And will not Feeling bend his streaming eye On my green sod, as slow he wends... | |
 | Charles MacCarthy Collins - 1885 - 352 lehte
...lightened my pain. THOMAS DERMODY. (Said to have been written when he was ten years oM.) MY BURIAL-PLACE. AH me ! and must I like the tenant lie Of this dark cell — all hushed the witching song? And will not Feeling bend his streaming eye On my green sod, as slow he wends... | |
 | 1887 - 842 lehte
...best blood her hands defil'd, And strangling in its birth her own devoted child. THE BURIAL-PLACE. AH me ! and must I like the tenant lie Of this dark cell, all hushed the witching song ; And will not feeling bend his streaming eye On my green sod, as slow he... | |
 | John Cooke (M.A.) - 1909 - 820 lehte
...23 My 'Burial Tlace AH me ! and must I like the tenant lie •**• Of this dark cell — all hushed the witching song ? And will not Feeling bend his...And, smiting his rapt bosom, softly sigh, 'His genius soared above the vulgar throng' ? Will he not fence my weedless turf around, Sacred from dull-eyed... | |
 | John Cooke - 1909 - 814 lehte
...breast to distraction I bare ; For distraction itself is less hard than despair. 23 My 'Burial Tlace AH me ! and must I like the tenant lie •**• Of this dark cell — all hushed the witching song ? And will not Feeling bend his streaming eye On my green sod, as slow he... | |
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