The Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell, Том 1

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Edward Moxon, 1837 - Всего страниц: 306
 

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Стр. xi - Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky ? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Стр. 77 - I have marshalled my clan, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one! They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
Стр. 83 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! — For the deck it was their field of fame And Ocean was their grave: Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 301 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it : I have killed many : I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
Стр. 81 - Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back; Their shots along the deep slowly boom: Then ceased — and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom.
Стр. 82 - By the festal cities' blaze, Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; And yet amidst that joy and uproar Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore. Brave hearts ! to Britain's pride Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died, With the gallant good Riou : Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave ; While the billow mournful rolls, And the mermaid's song condoles, Singing glory to the souls Of the brave.
Стр. 80 - Like leviathans afloat Lay their bulwarks on the brine, While the sign of battle flew On the lofty 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 flushed To anticipate the scene ; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between.
Стр. 99 - 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. 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 sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us, — rest, thou art weary and worn...
Стр. 105 - Go, Sun ! while mercy holds me up On nature's awful waste, To drink this last and bitter cup Of grief that man shall taste. Go ! tell the night that hides thy face, Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, On earth's sepulchral clod, The darkening universe defy To quench his immortality, Or shake his trust in God...
Стр. 79 - 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.

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