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 29
... sound of wagons ; on hailing one of them , to her infinite relief , she found it to be the pro- perty of a respectable Quaker , whom she had often seen , and whose reputation she knew to be good . After some little hesitation , and the ...
... sound of wagons ; on hailing one of them , to her infinite relief , she found it to be the pro- perty of a respectable Quaker , whom she had often seen , and whose reputation she knew to be good . After some little hesitation , and the ...
Side 42
... sound of the evening gun came boom- ing over the waters , and the roll of the drum pealed upon her ear like the knell of death . The shadows of evening deepened around ; the clouds still wore a threatening aspect , and plainly indicated ...
... sound of the evening gun came boom- ing over the waters , and the roll of the drum pealed upon her ear like the knell of death . The shadows of evening deepened around ; the clouds still wore a threatening aspect , and plainly indicated ...
Side 43
... sound of the receding oars died on her ear , she felt as if her last hope had expired . Who can paint the desolation of those lonely ones ! The girl clung to Mrs. Stanley for protection with as much confi- dence as a babe to its mother ...
... sound of the receding oars died on her ear , she felt as if her last hope had expired . Who can paint the desolation of those lonely ones ! The girl clung to Mrs. Stanley for protection with as much confi- dence as a babe to its mother ...
Side 44
... sound of a horse - she started from her seat - it advanced -it was he - she strained her eyes and ears — it still advanced , and rapidly - it was he - the husband , whom a few minutes before she had thought never to see again . She flew ...
... sound of a horse - she started from her seat - it advanced -it was he - she strained her eyes and ears — it still advanced , and rapidly - it was he - the husband , whom a few minutes before she had thought never to see again . She flew ...
Side 45
... sound of a horse trotting briskly along the bank assailed her ears ; she flew to the door , and in the dim distance , the moon half obscured by clouds , saw a man riding towards the house . " Oh ! there he is ! that must be he ! no ! he ...
... sound of a horse trotting briskly along the bank assailed her ears ; she flew to the door , and in the dim distance , the moon half obscured by clouds , saw a man riding towards the house . " Oh ! there he is ! that must be he ! no ! he ...
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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.