The Complete Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell: With an Original Biography, and NotesPhillips, Sampson, 1854 - 479 pages |
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Page 44
... O'er our blood . Not such a mind possessed England's tar ; ' Twas the love of noble game Set his oaken heart on flame , For to him ' t was all the same Sport and war All hands and eyes on watch , As they keep ; By their motion light as ...
... O'er our blood . Not such a mind possessed England's tar ; ' Twas the love of noble game Set his oaken heart on flame , For to him ' t was all the same Sport and war All hands and eyes on watch , As they keep ; By their motion light as ...
Page 45
... O'er her prize . Why ceased not here the strife , O , ye brave ? Why bleeds old England's band , By the fire of Danish land , That smites the very hand Stretched to save ? But the Britons sent to warn Denmark's town ; Proud foes , let ...
... O'er her prize . Why ceased not here the strife , O , ye brave ? Why bleeds old England's band , By the fire of Danish land , That smites the very hand Stretched to save ? But the Britons sent to warn Denmark's town ; Proud foes , let ...
Page 89
... O'er which his spirit flings its flight , Shedding an intellectual light — A sun that never sets , a moon that knows no change . Around his grave in radiant brotherhood , As if to form a halo o'er his head , Not few of England's master ...
... O'er which his spirit flings its flight , Shedding an intellectual light — A sun that never sets , a moon that knows no change . Around his grave in radiant brotherhood , As if to form a halo o'er his head , Not few of England's master ...
Page 105
... o'er unfathomed fields ; Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar , Where Andes , giant of the western star , With meteor - standard to the winds unfurled , Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world ! Now far he sweeps , where ...
... o'er unfathomed fields ; Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar , Where Andes , giant of the western star , With meteor - standard to the winds unfurled , Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world ! Now far he sweeps , where ...
Page 106
... o'er the troubled deep , ' T was his to mourn Misfortune's rudest shock , Scourged by the winds , and cradled on the rock ; To wake each joyless morn and search again The famished haunts of solitary men , Whose race , unyielding as ...
... o'er the troubled deep , ' T was his to mourn Misfortune's rudest shock , Scourged by the winds , and cradled on the rock ; To wake each joyless morn and search again The famished haunts of solitary men , Whose race , unyielding as ...
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Common terms and phrases
adieu Algiers arms battle beauty Beauty's beneath bleeding bless blood bloom bosom bower brave breath bright brow Campbell Campbell's charm cheer child clime Culdee Danube dear death deep delight doom dream Dugald Stewart earth Edinburgh England fair fame fate father fire friend Richardson Gertrude of Wyoming Glasgow glow grief hand heard heart Heaven Highland Hohenlinden hour Indian Innisfail lady land letter life's light live Lochiel lonely look Lord Lord Byron Lord Holland mind morn mountains mourn Nature's ne'er never night o'er peace Pleasures of Hope poem poet poet's Poland Pons Asinorum pride proud rapture Ratisbon sacred scene scorn Scotland shore sigh smile song soul spirit star storm sweet sword tears tell thee THEODRIC thine Thomas Campbell thou thought wampum waves weep whilst wild winds wrote young youth
Popular passages
Page 186 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 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 ! Few, few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Page 470 - 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 harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
Page 178 - They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock ! Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!
Page 196 - 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 185 - 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 188 - But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion, He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh. Sad is my fate...
Page 181 - 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 177 - LOCHIEL, Lochiel ! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array ! For a field of the dead' rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight. They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown ; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down ! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
Page 197 - 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 115 - 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!