The Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell

Butler, 1854 - 344 páginas
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Página 93 - 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.
Página 104 - I'll forgive your Highland chief. My daughter ! Oh ! my daughter...
Página 90 - 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 ! LOCHIEL.
Página 96 - The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Página 94 - 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.
Página 38 - The world was sad ! — the garden was a wild ! And man, the hermit, sigh'd — till woman smiled...
Página 103 - 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, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover...
Página 108 - ... my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us, — rest, thou art weary and worn...
Página 201 - God above ! Transfer it from the sword's appeal To Peace and Love ! Peace ! Love ! the cherubim that join Their spread wings o'er Devotion's shrine : Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine, Where they are not ; The heart alone can make divine Religion's spot.
Página 96 - 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.

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