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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.
Thomas Campbell
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Thomas Campbell
Age: 66 †
Born: 1777
Born: July 27
Died: 1844
Died: June 15
Journalist
Musicologist
Poet
Writer
Glasgow
Scotland
Poor
Harps
Happiness
Lad
Cheerily
Happy
Irish
Shannon
Play
Banks
Blithe
Like
Wherever
Tray
Dog
Trays
Green
Nigh
Went
Harp
More quotes by Thomas Campbell
The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
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Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree-- It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
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O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?
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He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
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A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.
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The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.
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Tomorrow let us do or die!
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Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!
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The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.
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Better be courted and jilted Than never be courted at all.
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Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.
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An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.
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The popularity of that baby-faced boy, who possessed not even the elements of a good actor, was a hallucination in the public mind, and a disgrace to our theatrical history.
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The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
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What millions died that Caesar might be great!
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Beauty's witching sway is now to me a star that's fallen-a dream that's passed away.
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The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.
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The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
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The only thing that is fundamental (real) is consciousness itself all else is virtual- i.e., a result of an exchange of information within consciousness.
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