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 34
... of battles would protect him . While standing at the door , a low peal of thunder alarmed her ; she turned to ob- serve the sky ; to her surprise ( for the morning was beautiful ) , it was now overspread , and a 34 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
... of battles would protect him . While standing at the door , a low peal of thunder alarmed her ; she turned to ob- serve the sky ; to her surprise ( for the morning was beautiful ) , it was now overspread , and a 34 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
Side 51
... morning without the magic word . " I am not a stranger , " said Dr. Stanley , " you must know me ; I have passed all hours of the night unmolested through your camp , during a succession of months before your army surgeons came on , and ...
... morning without the magic word . " I am not a stranger , " said Dr. Stanley , " you must know me ; I have passed all hours of the night unmolested through your camp , during a succession of months before your army surgeons came on , and ...
Side 53
... . steel glanced before her eyes in the " Pass at your As the bright shadowy light reflected by the almost expiring lamps , mingling their fitful rays with the first faint streaks of morning , A FEW EVENTFUL DAYS IN 1814 . 53.
... . steel glanced before her eyes in the " Pass at your As the bright shadowy light reflected by the almost expiring lamps , mingling their fitful rays with the first faint streaks of morning , A FEW EVENTFUL DAYS IN 1814 . 53.
Side 54
Margaret Miller Davidson. fitful rays with the first faint streaks of morning , she shuddered ; but again pleaded that he would call the officer of the night , - " Do , I entreat - if ye are men , ye will not persist in this refusal ...
Margaret Miller Davidson. fitful rays with the first faint streaks of morning , she shuddered ; but again pleaded that he would call the officer of the night , - " Do , I entreat - if ye are men , ye will not persist in this refusal ...
Side 55
... morning gun was fired just as they left behind them the last line of sentinels , and Mrs. Stanley uttered a sincere and heartfelt " thank God , " as they cleared the cantonment . The sun was just rising above the horizon , as they left ...
... morning gun was fired just as they left behind them the last line of sentinels , and Mrs. Stanley uttered a sincere and heartfelt " thank God , " as they cleared the cantonment . The sun was just rising above the horizon , as they left ...
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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.