The league of the Alps, The siege of Valencia, The vespers of Palermo, and other poems (Google eBook)

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Hilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins, 1826
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Page 79 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death...
Page 27 - What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? They sought a faith's pure shrine. Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found Freedom to worship God ! Felicia Hemans.
Page 132 - Say, father! say If yet my task is done ? " He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. " Speak, father ! " once again he cried, " If I may yet be gone," And " but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Page 25 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 58 - His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, bent; A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook ? That hand was cold a frozen thing it dropped from his like lead!
Page 133 - With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part But the noblest thing which perished there Was that young faithful heart...
Page 132 - And shouted but once more aloud, "My Father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.
Page 80 - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.
Page 103 - And the raised eye of childhood shine in love. Or where the shadows of dark solemn yews Brood silently o'er some lone burial-ground, Thy verse hath power that brightly might diffuse A breath, a kindling, as of spring, around, From its own glow of hope and courage high, And steadfast faith's victorious constancy. True bard and holy ! thou art e'en as one Who, by some secret gift of soul or eye, In every spot beneath the smiling sun, Sees where the springs of living waters lie . Unseen awhile...
Page 140 - As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest; with, such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...

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