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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
The Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell: In Two Volumes, Volume 2
Affichage du livre entier - 1830
adieu arms battle bear beauty beneath bleeding bless blood bosom bound brave breath bright cause chief child cold cried dark dead dear death deep died dream dying earth England face fair faithful fall fame fate feel field fire flower gave given glory graves green grew grief hand heard heart Heaven hills hour Hussar Irish isles lady land life's light LINES live Lochiel lonely look lover meet memory morn never night o'er ocean once pale peace poor pride rose round scene scorn shade ship shore sigh sight smiled SONG sorrow soul sound speak spirit star stood storm sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou thoughts thousand told tree true Twas vision voice waves weep wild wounded
Page 56 - 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. The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the...
Page 84 - O'er mountain, tower, and town. Or, mirror'd in the ocean vast, A thousand fathoms down ! As fresh in yon horizon dark, As young thy beauties seem. As when the. eagle from the ark First sported in thy beam. For, faithful to its sacred page, Heaven still rebuilds thy span, Nor lets the type grow pale with age That first spoke peace to man.
Page 82 - And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High, Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky.
Page 54 - YE Mariners of England That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze — Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe ! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow, — While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Page 51 - O'er the deadly space between: "Hearts of oak!" our captains cried, when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun. 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 shatter'd sail; Or in conflagration pale, Light the gloom.
Page 66 - 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 ;
Page 68 - I'll row you o'er the ferry." By this the storm grew loud apace, 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.
Page 64 - Oh cruel fate ! wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace — where no perils can chase me ? Never again, shall my brothers embrace me?
Page 35 - Lo ! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! Ah! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie that beacons the darkness of heaven. O crested Lochiel! the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, Heaven's fire is...
Page 37 - Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs, And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims. Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat, With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale LOCHIEL.