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Besides, Gombert, of Bruges, the director of the imperial orchestra, who had arrived in Ratisbon that very day, was the composer of the charming bird-song, and she knew from her singing master that, though her voice was best adapted to solemn hymns, nothing in the whole range of secular music suited it better than this "Car la saison est bonne."
To say that I ordered my dinner of this archaic type would be altogether to misrepresent the process owing to which, having dreamed of lamb and spinach and a salade de saison, I sat down in penitence to a mutton-chop and a rice pudding.
That same evening Donnel was overtaken on the road from Ballynafail, the market-town, by Jerry Sullivan, a struggling farmer, and they proceeded together to the latter's house. "This woful saison, along wid the low prices and the high rents, houlds out a black and terrible look for the counthry, God help us!" said Sullivan. "Ay," returned the Black Prophet, "if you only knew it.
"A glorious saison, blessed be His name! I don't think ever I remimber a finer promise of the craps." "Throth, nor I, the meadows is a miracle to look at." "Divil a thing else but the white, an' oats, an' early potatoes, beat anything ever was seen." "Throth, the poor will have them for a song, Jemmy." "Ay, or for less, Cooney; they'll be paid for takin' them."
"My dearest misanthrope," I replied, "what you need is some horse-riding." Maintenant que la belle saison étale les splendeurs de sa robe. Listen! A note is struck which, with an old magic, transforms the world!
Ah, God! such days when we were young! 'Ah! Craignons de perdre un seul jour, De la belle saison de l'amour!" He sang these lines in a rich baritone, clear and thrilling with passion, and the men grouped about him, not understanding what he sang, glanced at one another with an uneasy sense of fear.
Lord keep him from the gallows and hell-fire! Oh, it's a refreshing saison. It was God spaking to me by Providence when I tould you to put money on that mortgage. What's the Scripture saying, 'For brass I bring thee goold'? Turn him out, sir, turn him out." "Didn't you tell me that ould Ballawhaine had a polatic stroke?" said Pete. "I did; but he's a big man; let him pay his way," said Cæsar.
Cavanagh "an' at this saison of the! year, too. Well, that same's a loss." "Honest woman," said M'Mahon, addressing Kate Hogan, "maybe you'd give me a draw o' the pipe?" "Maybe so," she replied; "an' why wouldn't I? Shough! that is here!" "Long life to you, Katy.
Only think of my four arks, of meal, an' my three stacks of hay, an' divil a pile to come out of them for another twelve months!" "It's bad, too bad, I allow," said the other; "still let us not despair, man alive; who knows but the saison may change for the worse yet. Whish!" he exclaimed, slapping the side of his thigh, "hould up your head, Jemmy, I have thought of it; I have thought of it."
"I'm in a sweet state, sir," said he; "and would you forgive me, now that my heart is, full, by lookin' at such an example, if I tuck the liberty of axin' you to kneel down and offer a Father an' Ave an' hem och, what am I sayin' an' offer up a wurd in saison for that unfortunate blaggard, M'Clutchy any how, it'll improve myself, and I feel as if there was new strength put into me.
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