Selections from the Writings of Mrs. Margaret M. Davidson, the Mother of Lucretia Maria and Margaret M. DavidsonLea & Blanchard, 1843 - 272 sider |
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Side 7
... Father and your Father , my God and your God " 122 To Mrs. 124 Paraphrase of Psalm 55th Lines on my Daughter Margaret The Vanity of Worldly Pleasure Paraphrase from 19th Job Lines on the Death of L. M. D. Lines on Receiving a Bouquet ...
... Father and your Father , my God and your God " 122 To Mrs. 124 Paraphrase of Psalm 55th Lines on my Daughter Margaret The Vanity of Worldly Pleasure Paraphrase from 19th Job Lines on the Death of L. M. D. Lines on Receiving a Bouquet ...
Side 23
... father has been ill many . weeks , it is but two days since his fever left him . He is quite too feeble to bear agitation , and you must assist me to keep him composed . Remember , my dear daughters , that God is your Father and your ...
... father has been ill many . weeks , it is but two days since his fever left him . He is quite too feeble to bear agitation , and you must assist me to keep him composed . Remember , my dear daughters , that God is your Father and your ...
Side 25
... Father in whom she trusted , she found her mind more composed . She besought him to give her strength to meet her approaching trials . She prayed for judgment to di- rect , grace to sustain her , and above all , for perfect submission ...
... Father in whom she trusted , she found her mind more composed . She besought him to give her strength to meet her approaching trials . She prayed for judgment to di- rect , grace to sustain her , and above all , for perfect submission ...
Side 30
... father , had now taken possession of her mind : a relapse might be fatal ; in this emergency , every thing depended upon herself . As the import- ance of the charge pressed upon her mind it almost overpowered her . Again she commended ...
... father , had now taken possession of her mind : a relapse might be fatal ; in this emergency , every thing depended upon herself . As the import- ance of the charge pressed upon her mind it almost overpowered her . Again she commended ...
Side 38
... hus- band and the father came not - shower after shower came pouring down ; the thunder burst in tremendous peals , while the livid lightning still played fearfully along the sky ! The force of the storm had 38 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
... hus- band and the father came not - shower after shower came pouring down ; the thunder burst in tremendous peals , while the livid lightning still played fearfully along the sky ! The force of the storm had 38 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
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arms art thou bards battle beam beautiful blessings blood bosom bound brave breast bright brow Cairbar Calmar Carril chief cloud Connal cried Cromla's Cuthullin dark daughter dear death echoing enemy Erin Erin's eyes fair fame father fear feast feeble fight Fillan Fingal flowing tears Gaul grief hall hand hast hath heart heaven hero's heroes hill Horace Walpole husband king king of swords Lena's heath light Lochlin's lonely Lord loud maid mamma Margaret mighty Morna morning Morven's mother mournful neath night noble o'er Orpah Oscar Ossian pale peace Peru plain Plattsburgh Polly pride raise replied rise roaring rock roll Ruth Ryno scene shield side silent song sons soul sound spear spirit Stanley Starno's storm stream Swaran sweet sword tears thee thine thou tomb trembling Tura's Ullin valiant voice Volumes wagons warriors WASHINGTON IRVING waves wind young youth
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Side 152 - Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; And this shall be the sign : The heavenly Babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapt in swathing bands, And in a manger laid.
Side 256 - ... promise of never returning to Ireland, in a hostile manner. The night is spent in settling Swaran's departure, in songs of bards, and in a conversation in which the story of Grumal is introduced by Fingal, Morning comes. Swaran departs ; Fingal goes on a hunting party, and finding Cuthullin in the cave of Tura, comforts him, and sets sail, the next day, for Scotland ; which concludes the poem.
Side 230 - Raise, Oscar, rather raise my tomb. I will not yield the war to thee. The first and bloodiest in the strife, my arm shall teach thee how to fight. But remember, my son, to place this sword, this bow, the horn of my deer, within that dark and narrow house, whose mark is one grey stone ! Oscar, I have no love to leave to the care of my son.