Thomas Campbell ( 10 of 46 )
Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe.
Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe.
The wine is poured, you should drink it.
[Fr., Le vin est verse, il faut le boire.]
The wine is poured, you should drink it.
[Fr., Le vin est verse, il faut le boire.]
To bear is to conquer our fate.
To bear is to conquer our fate.
Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you're doing
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Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you're doing
In my cheek's pale hue?
All my life with sorrow strewing;
Wed or cease to woo.
Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while read more
Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes.
'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and read more
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.
On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh,
No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;
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On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh,
No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;
No harp like my own could so cheerily play,
And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.
