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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
appeared arms battle beauty beneath blood bosom bound breath bright brow called Campbell cause charm chief child dark dead dear death deep delight dream earth England face fair fall fame fate father feel field fire flower gave give grief hand head hear heard heart Heaven Highland Hope hour human Indian kind knew land leave light live lonely look Lord memory mind morn mother mountain Nature never night o'er once Page peace poem poor pride rocks round scene seen shore sight smile song soon soul sound speak spirit star storm sweet sword tears tell thee thing thou thought told true Twas waves weep wild winds woods young youth
Page 98 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow...
Page 99 - 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.
Page 17 - Oh ! bloodiest picture in the book of Time Sarmatia fell unwept, without a crime ; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe...
Page 105 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Page x - Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault.
Page 3 - Heav'n's aerial bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?— 3 Tis distance lends enchantment to the view And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Page 126 - O'er mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child To bless the bow of God.
Page 99 - 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 storm has ceased to blow.
Page 94 - Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watchfire, 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.