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America amidst appear arms battle beneath bird blood blow bosom breath bright brothers called Charles chief child Christian cried dark dead dear death deep distant dream eagle enemies England eyes fair father's fear feet fire Gertrude grave grief half hand head heard heart heav'n Highland hills Indian Irish knew lady laid lake land leave light living Lochiel lonely look Lord loud manner meet morn mountain never night O'Connor's o'er once pale path peace person Prince rock rose round running seen shore side sight sire song soon soul sound speak spirit Stanza star storm stranger sweet sword tears tell thee thou thought took Travels tree tribe Twas Verse vision warriors wave weep wild woods WYOMING
Strona 148 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Strona 176 - 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.
Strona 164 - I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.' The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her, When, oh ! too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o'er her.
Strona 155 - OF Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on.
Strona 161 - 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...
Strona 136 - 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.
Strona 148 - 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.
Strona 156 - 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 flush'd To anticipate the scene ; And her van the fleeter rush'd O'er the deadly space between.