United States or Pakistan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He tossed his head upwards. "I must write a letter to the papers," he said. "Ireland is lost." Persons: Mrs. Ford Donagh Ford Hugh Deely Agnes Deely Scene: A farmhouse in Connacht. Hugh: They'll make short work of the high field. It's half ploughed already. Donagh: It was good of the people to gather as they did, giving us their labour. Hugh: The people had always a wish for your family, Donagh.
Aye, the very fire on the hearth will leap in memory of the hands that tended it. Donagh: This will be such a day as will be made a boast of for ever in Carrabane. Mrs. Ford: Let there be music and the sound of rejoicing and shouts from the hills. Let those who put their feet in anger upon us and who are themselves reduced to-day look back upon the strength they held and the power they lost.
Have beside him Murt Cooney that lost his sight at the struggle of Ballyadams. Let him lift up his poor blind face till I see the rapture of it. Donagh: Murt Cooney is coming, and Francis Kilroy and Brian Mulkearn. Mrs. Ford: It was they who put a seal of silence on their lips and bore their punishment to save a friend of the people.
I crossed her little white hands on the breast where the life died in her like a flame. Donagh, my son, it was nearly all going from my mind. Agnes: This is no day for sad thoughts. Think of the great thing it is for you to be back here again. Mrs. Ford: Ah, that's the truth, girl.
He fixed his deep, dilated eyes upon the Donagh, in a manner that betokened somewhat of irresolution: his countenance fell; his color came and went, but eventually settled in a flushed red; his powerful hands and arms trembled so much, that he folded them to prevent his agitation from being noticed; the grimness of his face ceased to be stern, while it retained the blank expression of guilt; his temples swelled out with the terrible play of their blood-vessels, his chest, too, heaved up and down with the united pressure of guilt, and the tempest which shook him within.
The story of the Donagh, the Author has reason to believe, was the means of first bringing this curious piece of antiquity into notice.
Have a place beside me for the widow of Con Rafferty who hid the smoking revolver the day the tyrant fell at the cross of Killbrack. Donagh: All the old neighbours are coming surely. Mrs. I will reach them out the friendship of my hands and speak to them the words that lie upon my heart. The rafters of this house will ring again with the voices that Donagh Ford welcomed and that I loved.
Who has ever been known to swear falsely upon the Donagh, without being visited by a tremendous punishment, either on the spot, or in twenty-four hours after his perjury? If we ourselves have not seen such instances with our own eyes, it is because none liveth who dare incur such dreadful penalty; but we have heard of those who did, and of their awful punishment afterwards.
Donagh: Down to the people breaking the ground. They will be waiting for word of your home-coming. Mrs. Ford: Ah, sure you ought to have the people up here, a mhic. I'd like to see all the old neighbours about me and hear the music of their voices. Hugh: Very well. I'll step down and bid them up. Mrs. Ford: You'll have the anxiety of the farm on your mind from this out, Donagh.
Hugh: When I was a bit of a gosoon I remember the people talking about the eviction of Donagh Ford. It was terrible work used to be in Carrabane those times. Your father was the first man to fight, and that was why the people thought so well of him. Donagh: He would never speak of it himself, for at home he was a silent, proud man. But my mother used to be telling me of it many a time.
Word Of The Day