Ireland Its Humour and Pathos
Excerpt from Ireland Its Humour and Pathos: A Study Green, in the wizard armsOf the foam-bearded Atlantic, A melancholy isle, Enchanted and dreaming lies: And there, by Shannon's flowing, In the moonlight, spectre-thin, The spectre Erin sits. She keenes, and the strings of her wild harp shiverOn the gusts of night: O'er the four waters she keenes - over Moyle she keenes, O'er the Sea of Milith, and the Strait of Strongbow, And the Ocean of Columbus. And the Fianna hear, and the ghost of her cloudy hovering heroes;And the swan, Fianoula, wails o'er the waters of Inisfall, Chanting her song of destiny, The rune of the weaving Fates. Wail no more, lonely one, mother of exiles wail no more, Thy sorrows are the world's, thou art no more alone;Thy wrongs, the world's. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.