Echoes of the Anvil: Songs and Poems

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J. Menzies, 1886 - English poetry - 244 pages
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Page 74 - Thy spirit, Independence, let me share, Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye ! Thy steps I follow, with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
Page 123 - The Minister selected particular statements for contradiction of details, on which I am not yet sufficiently informed to pronounce; but what I complain of is that he still, on the 12th of August, effectually disguised the main issue, which lay in the question whether the Turkish Government, which was receiving from us both moral and virtually material support, had or had not by its agents and by its approval and reward of its agents been deeply guilty of excesses, than which none more abominable...
Page 108 - The class which has hitherto ruled in this country has failed miserably. It revels in power and wealth, whilst at its feet, a terrible peril for its future, lies the multitude which it has neglected. If a class has failed, let us try the nation.
Page 123 - ...." has been practised on a great scale among an historical people, who seldom have, I believe, resorted to torture, but generally terminate their connection with culprits in a more expeditious manner (laughter)." Every effort had been made, and would continue to be made, " to soften and mitigate as much as possible the terrible scenes that are now inevitably occurring.
Page 16 - The next seven years of his life were spent in the heart of Buckinghamshire, where he was a leading engine- smith in the employment of the London and North Western Railway Co. During that period, surrounded by his wife and young family, he made much mental progress, and the lovely scenery that lay around proved an inspiring and enchanting paradise to the young poet's heart. It was here that he wrote...
Page 74 - I'll bring the brave heroic warrior knight Whause valour burns in every Scottish breast ! " I scorn to rest till a' my plan's complete : The nicht is cauld, but I will tak
Page 230 - And the tap o' the Tower, in its rugged decay, Look'd down on the glen, like an ominous cairn ; And up fraŤ the burn to the whins on the brae Puir Elspie, distracted, ran seekin' her bairn ! " Hoy, Hughie ! " she cried a' the weary nicht lang, Yet nane but hersel' did the puir body blame ; And aye as the wail o' her soul deeper rang, The howlets, in mockery, re-echoed his name.
Page 20 - Auld Scotland has her bards enew, Her Ballantines and ithers ; Far better men, an', unlike you, They ne'er indulge in blethers." Believe me, I'm "owre proud to snool," So, Mr what's yer name, In case ye ca' me rhyming fool, I'll keep my rhyme at hame. 'Twill please my wife the winter through, 'Twill please my four wee bairns ; But why need I thus bother you, When you it no concerns ? Yet this in print I'd like to see, But mind there's nae compulsion, Just please yersel', and ye'll please me, Yer...
Page 75 - We trace the cause o' thy misfortunes now. Thus, frae the gates o' fame and fortune hurled, We blindly forge the bolts o' godless fate, Or proudly ban the big, broad-shouthered world For a' the ills that we oursels create.
Page 72 - That blythe Auld Reekie will be proud to see. I'm but a wee auld body — broken down — And, though a devil wars within my brain. There's aye a something lifts the heart abune The ills o' life, and whispers 'rise again.' For he wha looks through inspiration's e'e Maun falter not, but work, and recolleo' The best o' men the warst o' ills maun dree — And whiles the warst command the maist raspec'.

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