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Βιβλία Βιβλία 1 - 10 από 180 για She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking....
" She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking — Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking! He had... "
Memoir of Thomas Addis and Robert Emmet: With Their Ancestors and Immediate ... - Σελίδα 262
των Thomas Addis Emmet - 1915
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Tickler, Or, Monthly Compendium of Good Things, in Prose and ..., Τόμοι 1-3

1818
...never ; And 1 that angel Womankprize, Who loves but one, and loves for ever! STANZAS BY T. MOORE, ESQ. She is' far from the land where her young hero sleeps,...and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She sinus the wild songs of her dear nAtirt plains, Ev'ry note which he lov'd awaking— Ah! little they...

The Literary chronicle and weekly review, Τόμος 2,Τεύχη 33-83

1820
...heart. ' It was on her that Moore, the extinguished Irish poet, composed the following lines : — " She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lover* around her are signing : But coldly she turns from their gaze, mad weeps, For her heart in his...

The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent

Washington Irving - 1820 - 419 σελίδες
...broken heart. It was on her that Moore, the distinguished Irish poet, composed the following lines : She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,...her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he lov'd awaking — Ah ! little they think, who...

The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent, Τόμος 1

Washington Irving - 1822
...broken heart. It was on her that Moore, the distinguished Irish poet, composed the following lines : She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,...her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he lov'd awaking — Ah ! little they think, who...

Beauties of the Scottish poets, or Harp of Renfrewshire, a collection of ...

Renfrew county - 1821
...hills I never mair will see. Slythely, $c. LXXXIX. SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND. AIR— Open the door. She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing i But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying ! She sings...

Melodies, Songs, Sacred Songs, and National Airs: Containing Several Never ...

Thomas Moore - 1821 - 252 σελίδες
...is far less sweet Than to remember thee, MARY !* SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND, AIR — " Open the Door." SHE is far from the land, where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing, But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave...

The Dublin Inquisitor, ..., Τόμοι 1-2

1821
...the following verses is so delicately and faithfully preserved, that we cannot forbear copying them. She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weep(, For her heart in hit grave is...

Irish Melodies

Thomas Moore - 1821 - 259 σελίδες
...stole ; And her ghost was seen to glide, Smiling, o'er the fatal tide ! SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND. I. SHE is far from the land, where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her, sighing ; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave...

Melodies (Irish melodies, National melodies).

Thomas Moore - 1821
...ghost was seen to glide, Smiling, o'er the fatal tide! SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND. AIR—Open the Door. SHE is far from the land, where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave...

The flowers of literature, or, Encyclopædia of anecdote, a coll. by W. Oxberry

William Oxberry - 1822
...broken heart. It was on her, that Moore, the distinguished Irish poet, composed the following lines ;* She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,...song of her dear native plains, Every note which he lov'd awaking—- Ah ! little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel...




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