The Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell, Band 1Henry Colburn, 1828 - 238 Seiten |
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Seite 13
... fire of God , th ' immortal soul of man ? ' 66 Turn , child of Heav'n , thy rapture - lighten'd eye To Wisdom's walks , the sacred Nine are nigh : Hark ! from bright spires that gild the Delphian height , From streams that wander in ...
... fire of God , th ' immortal soul of man ? ' 66 Turn , child of Heav'n , thy rapture - lighten'd eye To Wisdom's walks , the sacred Nine are nigh : Hark ! from bright spires that gild the Delphian height , From streams that wander in ...
Seite 24
... his heavy load , And asks the image back that Heaven bestow'd ! Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns , And , as the slave departs , the man returns . Oh ! sacred Truth ! thy triumph ceased a while 24 PLEASURES OF HOPE .
... his heavy load , And asks the image back that Heaven bestow'd ! Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns , And , as the slave departs , the man returns . Oh ! sacred Truth ! thy triumph ceased a while 24 PLEASURES OF HOPE .
Seite 27
... fires of ruin glow , His blood - dyed waters murmuring far below ; The storm prevails , the rampart yields a way , Bursts the wide cry of horror and dismay ! Hark ! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall , A thousand shrieks for ...
... fires of ruin glow , His blood - dyed waters murmuring far below ; The storm prevails , the rampart yields a way , Bursts the wide cry of horror and dismay ! Hark ! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall , A thousand shrieks for ...
Seite 28
... Nature given , And , like Prometheus , bring the fire of Heaven ! Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurl'd , Her name , her nature , wither'd from the world ! Ye that the rising morn invidious mark , And hate 28 PLEASURES OF HOPE .
... Nature given , And , like Prometheus , bring the fire of Heaven ! Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurl'd , Her name , her nature , wither'd from the world ! Ye that the rising morn invidious mark , And hate 28 PLEASURES OF HOPE .
Seite 30
... fire in Hampden's bosom swell , And fate and freedom in the shaft of Tell ! Say , ye fond zealots to the worth of yore , Hath Valour left the world - to live no more ? No more shall Brutus bid a tyrant die , And 30 PLEASURES OF HOPE .
... fire in Hampden's bosom swell , And fate and freedom in the shaft of Tell ! Say , ye fond zealots to the worth of yore , Hath Valour left the world - to live no more ? No more shall Brutus bid a tyrant die , And 30 PLEASURES OF HOPE .
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amidst ANTISTROPHE arms bark beauty Beauty's beneath bleeding bliss blood bosom bowers Brandt breath bright Briton brow burst burst of Joy calumet charm cheek child clime CONSTANCE cried dear death deep delight doom'd Dorset Street dread dream dust earth enemies ev'n fair fate fire friendship GERTRUDE OF WYOMING Gertrude's glaciers glow grief hand Hark hath heard heart Heaven HOPE hour Indian JULIA kindred knew land life's light living lonely look'd Loxian lyre MEDEA midnight mind mingled mountain murmur Muse Nature Nature's NOTE nursling o'er peace pensive pirogue pride rapture rocks sacred savannas scene seem'd shade shore sigh sire slumber smile song soul spirit STANZA storm sublime sweet sword tears thee THEODRIC THOMAS CAMPBELL thou thought Travels trembling tribe triumph truth Twas UDOLPH vale wampum warriors wave weep wild winds woods youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 180 - 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.
Seite 181 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed many: I have fully glutted my vengeance: for my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
Seite 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...
Seite 101 - As monumental bronze unchanged his look : A soul that pity touch'd, but never shook : Train'd, from his tree-rock'd cradle to his bier, The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook Impassive — fearing but the shame of fear — A stoic of the woods — a man without a tear.
Seite 71 - Inspiring thought of rapture yet to be, The tears of Love were hopeless, but for thee ! If in that frame no deathless spirit dwell, If that faint murmur be the last farewell, If Fate unite the faithful but to part, Why is their memory sacred to the heart ? Why does the brother of my childhood seem...
Seite 63 - Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, Lights of the world, and demi-gods of fame ? Is this your triumph — this your proud applause, Children of Truth, and champions of her cause...
Seite 179 - But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life.
Seite 132 - With all his howling desolating band; — These eyes have seen their blade and burning pine Awake at once, and silence half your land. Red is the cup they drink ; but not with wine : Awake, and watch to-night, or see no morning shine ! XVII.
Seite 8 - Now far he sweeps, where scarce a summer smiles, On Behring's rocks, or Greenland's naked isles ; Cold on his midnight watch, the breezes blow, From wastes that slumber in eternal snow ; And waft, across the wave's tumultuous roar, The wolf's long howl from Oonalaska's shore.
Seite 26 - Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm. Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, Revenge or death...