A history of the city of Dublin, Volumen 3


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Página 170 - Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Página 171 - I do not give up the country — I see her in a swoon, but she is not dead — though in her tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still there is on her lips a spirit of life, and on her cheek a glow of beauty — " Thou art not conquered ; beauty's ensign yet " Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, " And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Página 85 - As I stroll the city, oft I See a building large and lofty, Not a bow-shot from the college ; Half the globe from sense and knowledge : By the prudent architect, Placed against the church direct, Making good my graudam's jest, " Near the church" — you know the rest.1 Tell us what the pile contains ? Many a head that holds no brains.
Página 296 - Calm on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit ! rest thee now ! E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod His seal was on thy brow Dust, to its narrow house beneath ! Soul, to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die.
Página 165 - I was the parent and the founder, from the assassination of such men as the honorable gentleman and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt, — they are seditious, — and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy against their country ! I have returned to refute a libel...
Página 72 - For in reason, all government without the consent of the governed, is the very definition of slavery. But in fact, eleven men well armed will certainly subdue one single man in his shirt.
Página 86 - Could I from the building's top Hear the rattling thunder drop, While the devil upon the roof (If the devil be thunder-proof) Should with poker fiery red Crack the stones, and melt the lead ; Drive them down on every scull, When the den of thieves is full ; Quite destroy the harpies...
Página 87 - See, the Muse unbars the gate ; Hark, the monkeys, how they prate ! All ye gods who rule the soul : * Styx, through Hell whose waters roll ! Let me be allow'd to tell What I heard in yonder Hell.
Página 164 - I could not join free quarter — I could take part with neither. I was therefore absent from a scene where I could not be active without self-reproach, nor indifferent with safety.
Página 163 - I did not call him to order — why? because the limited talents of some men render it impossible for them to be severe without being unparliamentary ; but before I sit down, I shall show him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same time.

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