The poetical works of Thomas Campbell, ed. by W.M. Rossetti

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Page 211 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Page 128 - 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.
Page 235 - Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
Page 196 - Wizard— —Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day : For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal; 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.
Page 212 - 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 240 - 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 224 - 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 ; should they our...
Page 195 - 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 229 - I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter! — oh! my daughter!
Page 206 - Like leviathans afloat, Lay their bulwarks on the brine; While the sign of battle flew On the lofty British line : It was ten of April morn by the chime As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath, For a time. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene ; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. ''Hearts of oak...

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