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Page 341 - 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 340 - I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us, — rest, thou art weary and worn...
Page 341 - Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. '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.
Page 341 - 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 166 - But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, And sensual bliss is all the nation knows. In florid beauty groves and fields appear, Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. • Contrasted faults through all his manners reign ; Though poor, luxurious ; though submissive, vain , Though grave, yet trifling ; zealous, yet untrue ; And e'en in penance planning sins anew.
Page 341 - 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. By torch and trumpet fast array'd, Each horseman drew his battle-blade, And furious every charger neigh'd To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rush'd the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven Far flash'd the red artillery.
Page 340 - 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 60 - The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade...