Profanity

A scrupulous priest of Kildare,
Used to pay a rude peasant to swear,
    Who would paint the air blue,
    For an hour or two,
While his reverence wrestled in prayer.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCLXIII. Gaffers And Gammers.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. XXV. Historical

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CXLVI. Songs.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCXXV. Games.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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The Description Of An Irish Feast

Given by O'Rourke, a powerful chieftain of Ulster in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, previously to his making a visit to her court. A song was composed upon the tradition of the feast, the fame of which having reached Swift, he was supplied with a literal version, from which he executed the following very spirited translation.

TRANSLATED ALMOST LITERALLY OUT OF THE ORIGINAL IRISH. 1720

O'ROURKE'S noble fare
    Will ne'er be forgot,
By those who were there,
    Or those who were not.

His revels to keep,
    We sup and we dine
On seven score sheep,
    Fat bullocks, and swine.

Usquebaugh to our feast
    In pails was brought up,
A hundred at least,
    And a madder[1] our cup.

O there is the sport!
    We rise with the light
In disor...

Jonathan Swift

The Abbot Of Innisfallen

The Abbot of Innisfallen
awoke ere dawn of day;
Under the dewy green leaves
went he forth to pray.
The lake around his island
lay smooth and dark and deep,
And wrapt in a misty stillness
the mountains were all asleep.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
when the dawn was dim and gray;
The prayers of his holy office
he faithfully 'gan say.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
while the dawn was waxing red;
And for his sins' forgiveness
a solemn prayer he said:
Low kneel'd that holy Abbot
while the dawn was waxing clear;
And he pray'd with loving-kindness
for his convent-brethren dear.
Low kneel'd that blessed Abbot
while the dawn was waxing bright;
He pray'd a great prayer for Ireland,
he pray'd with all his might.
Low kneel'd that good...

William Allingham

A Street Fight. (To Mr F - - .) {38}

Sir, we approve your curling lip and nose
    At this vile sight.
These men, these women are brute beasts? - Who knows,
    Sir, but that you are right?

Panders and harlots, rogues and thieves and worse,
    We are a crew
Whose pitiful plunder's honoured in the purse
    Of gentlemen like you.

Whom holy Competition's taught (like us)
    "What's thine is mine!" -
How we must love you who have made us thus,
    You may perhaps divine!

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Letter From Larry O'Branigan To The Rev. Murthagh O'Mulligan.

Arrah, where were you, Murthagh, that beautiful day?--
    Or how came it your riverence was laid on the shelf,
When that poor craythur, Bobby--as you were away--
    Had to make twice as big a Tomfool of himself.

Troth, it wasnt at all civil to lave in the lurch
    A boy so deserving your tindhr'est affection:--
Too such iligant Siamase twins of the Church,
    As Bob and yourself, ne'er should cut the connection.

If thus in two different directions you pull,
    'Faith, they'll swear that yourself and your riverend brother
Are like those quare foxes, in Gregory's Bull,
    Whose tails were joined one way, while they lookt
another!^[1]

Och blest be he, whosomdever he be,
    That helpt soft Magee t...

Thomas Moore

The Heretics Tragedy

A MIDDLE-AGE INTERLUDE.


I.

PREADMONISHETH THE ABBOT DEODAET.

The Lord, we look to once for all,
Is the Lord we should look at, all at once:
He knows not to vary, saith Saint Paul,
Nor the shadow of turning, for the nonce.
See him no other than as he is:
Give both the infinitudes their due,
Infinite mercy, but, I wis,
As infinite a justice too.
[Organ: plagal-cadence.]
As infinite a justice too.

II.

ONE SINGETH.

John, Master of the Temple of God,
Falling to sin the Unknown Sin,
What he bought of Emperor Aldabrod,
He sold it to Sultan Saladin,
Till, caught by Pope Clement, a-buzzing there,
Hornet-prince of the mad wasps hive,
And clipt of his wings in Paris square,
They bring him now...

Robert Browning

The Dean Of St. Patrick's

TO THOMAS SHERIDAN

SIR,
I cannot but think that we live in a bad age,
O tempora, O mores! as 'tis in the adage.
My foot was but just set out from my cathedral,
When into my hands comes a letter from the droll.
I can't pray in quiet for you and your verses;
But now let us hear what the Muse from your car says.
    Hum - excellent good - your anger was stirr'd;
Well, punners and rhymers must have the last word.
But let me advise you, when next I hear from you,
To leave off this passion which does not become you;
For we who debate on a subject important,
Must argue with calmness, or else will come short on't.
For myself, I protest, I care not a fiddle,
For a riddle and sieve, or a sieve and a riddle;
And think of the sex as you please, I'd as lieve

Jonathan Swift