There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing.
To wander along by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.
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The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never read more
The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never lose sight of it.
[Fr., Un enfant en ouvrant ses yeux doit voir la patrie, et
jusqu'a la mort ne voir qu'elle.]
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.
An Irishman's heart is nothing but his imagination.
An Irishman's heart is nothing but his imagination.
The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest.
The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest.
I can't but say it is an awkward sight
To see one's native land receding through
The read more
I can't but say it is an awkward sight
To see one's native land receding through
The growing waters; it unmans one quite,
Especially when life is rather new.
For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
read more
For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
Whose sons unaccustom'd to rebel commotion,
Tho' joyous, are sober--tho' peaceful, are brave.
Old Dublin City there is no doubtin'
Bates every city upon the say.
'Tis there you'd hear read more
Old Dublin City there is no doubtin'
Bates every city upon the say.
'Tis there you'd hear O'Connell spoutin'
And Lady Morgan making tay.
For 'tis the capital of the finest nation,
With charmin' pisintry upon a fruitful sod,
Fightin' like devils for conciliation,
And hatin' each other for the Love of God.
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
read more
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled and shone
In the ring of this world, the most precious stone.
Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]
Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]
