The Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell

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Oliver & Boyd, 1837 - 358 стор.
 

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Сторінка 122 - Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
Сторінка 108 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Сторінка 358 - I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.
Сторінка 28 - Departed spirits of the mighty dead ! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ! Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man, Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van ! Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, And make her arm puissant as your own ! Oh ! once again to Freedom's cause return The patriot Tell— the Bruce of Bannockburn...
Сторінка 101 - Tis thine, oh Glenullin! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning — no rider is there; But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. Weep, Albin!* to death and captivity led! Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead: For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave.
Сторінка 115 - I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. — " And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. " His horsemen hard behind us ride ; Should they our steps discover...
Сторінка 102 - Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king. Lo ! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath, Behold where he flies on his desolate path...
Сторінка 116 - The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. " O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.
Сторінка 122 - The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain ; At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again.
Сторінка 105 - Again ! again ! again ! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back Their shots along the deep slowly boom : Then ceased — and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail, Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom.

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