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Seite 7 - 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!
Seite 25 - THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Seite 6 - As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast it down, — shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep sigh, — I saw the iron enter into his soul. I burst into tears, — I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn.
Seite 3 - Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! said I ' still thou art a bitter draught! and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account.
Seite 25 - Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though child-like form.
Seite 4 - Tis thou, thrice sweet and gracious goddess, addressing myself to LIBERTY, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till NATURE herself shall change no tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle or...
Seite 13 - And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats, By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats. At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking:
Seite 3 - Traveller, in the stranger's land, Far from thine own household band ; Mourner, haunted by the tone Of a voice from this world gone ; Captive, in whose narrow cell Sunshine hath not leave to dwell ; Sailor, on the darkening sea, Lift the heart and bend the knee.