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 94
... maid Of royal lineage gave ; The beauteous Orpah loved the youth , For he was good and brave . Naomi blessed her father's God For all his mercies shown To her and all her exiled house , When strangers and alone . Alas ! how short ...
... maid Of royal lineage gave ; The beauteous Orpah loved the youth , For he was good and brave . Naomi blessed her father's God For all his mercies shown To her and all her exiled house , When strangers and alone . Alas ! how short ...
Side 103
... sustenance to gain . With modest step and downcast eye , She joined the reaper throng , A gleaner in those very fields Which should to her belong . With eager care the timid maid Collects each scattered grain RUTH . 103.
... sustenance to gain . With modest step and downcast eye , She joined the reaper throng , A gleaner in those very fields Which should to her belong . With eager care the timid maid Collects each scattered grain RUTH . 103.
Side 104
Margaret Miller Davidson. With eager care the timid maid Collects each scattered grain , When lo ! the master of the field Appears amid his train . At his approach all hearts beat light , The servants loved their lord ; And every man ...
Margaret Miller Davidson. With eager care the timid maid Collects each scattered grain , When lo ! the master of the field Appears amid his train . At his approach all hearts beat light , The servants loved their lord ; And every man ...
Side 105
... maid address'd— " Mark me , my daughter ! here abide , This be thy place of rest ; " Go not into another field To meet contempt and scorn , A something whispers to my heart Thou wert not meanly born ; " Go not into another field , Glean ...
... maid address'd— " Mark me , my daughter ! here abide , This be thy place of rest ; " Go not into another field To meet contempt and scorn , A something whispers to my heart Thou wert not meanly born ; " Go not into another field , Glean ...
Side 107
... of barley corn Her basket did contain ! " Where hast thou gleaned to - day , my love , Whose favour didst thou gain ? Blessings upon his noble head , Thou hast not toiled in vain . " " His name is Boaz " -said the maid- The RUTH . 107.
... of barley corn Her basket did contain ! " Where hast thou gleaned to - day , my love , Whose favour didst thou gain ? Blessings upon his noble head , Thou hast not toiled in vain . " " His name is Boaz " -said the maid- The RUTH . 107.
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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.