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Page 85 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha, for Scotland's King and Law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free-man stand, or Free-man fa', Let him follow me!
Page 52 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home...
Page 250 - Heav'n-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must when our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "In God is our Trust.
Page 250 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave: And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Page 223 - The soldier flew, the sailor too, And scared almost to death, sir, Wore out their shoes, to spread the news, And ran till out of breath, sir. Now up and down throughout the town, Most frantic scenes were acted ; And some ran here, and others there, Like men almost distracted. Some fire...
Page 43 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. — So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells ; The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells.
Page 62 - The war, that for a space did fail, Now trebly thundering swelled the gale, And — STANLEY ! was the cry ; — A light on Marmion's visage spread, And fired his glazing eye ; With dying hand, above his head He shook the fragment of his blade, And shouted "Victory! — Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!
Page 402 - Whole ages have fled and their works decayed, And nations have scattered been ; But the stout old Ivy shall never fade, From its hale and hearty green. The brave old plant in its lonely days, Shall fatten upon the past : For the stateliest building man can raise, Is the Ivy's food at last. Creeping on, where time has been, A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
Page 32 - Enjoyed the peace your valor won. Let independence be our boast, Ever mindful what it cost; Ever grateful for the prize, Let its altar reach the skies. Firm, united let us be, Rallying round our Liberty; As a band of brothers joined, Peace and safety we shall find.