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 158
... spear against the rock reclined , His shield on the grassy mound . His thoughts were of the mighty dead- Great Cairbar slain in Erin's war- When Moran , Fithil's son appears , The scout of ocean from afar . " Arise , Cuthullin ! " cried ...
... spear against the rock reclined , His shield on the grassy mound . His thoughts were of the mighty dead- Great Cairbar slain in Erin's war- When Moran , Fithil's son appears , The scout of ocean from afar . " Arise , Cuthullin ! " cried ...
Side 159
Margaret Miller Davidson. " His spear is a tall blasted pine ; He sat upon the lonely shore , As mist upon the silent hill , Conning the scenes of battle o'er . " Well art thou named the mighty man ! ' I said , ' Advance , thou chief of ...
Margaret Miller Davidson. " His spear is a tall blasted pine ; He sat upon the lonely shore , As mist upon the silent hill , Conning the scenes of battle o'er . " Well art thou named the mighty man ! ' I said , ' Advance , thou chief of ...
Side 160
... spear , And strike brave Semo's sounding shield ! On Tura's rustling gate it hangs ; Haste - let it echo through the field ! " The hero's bossy shield he struck , And hills and vales and rocks reply ; Wide spreads the clamour through ...
... spear , And strike brave Semo's sounding shield ! On Tura's rustling gate it hangs ; Haste - let it echo through the field ! " The hero's bossy shield he struck , And hills and vales and rocks reply ; Wide spreads the clamour through ...
Side 162
... spear ! Alone thy strong and powerful arm Would quell a host ; -thou canst not fear . " " Cuthullin ! " the calm chief replied , " My spear is sharp , its edge is keen , In battle it delights to shine , Red with the blood of thousands ...
... spear ! Alone thy strong and powerful arm Would quell a host ; -thou canst not fear . " " Cuthullin ! " the calm chief replied , " My spear is sharp , its edge is keen , In battle it delights to shine , Red with the blood of thousands ...
Side 164
... spear , ' Mid thousands shall my joy be found , And battle's gloom my soul shall cheer ! " " Pleasant and sweet the din of arms , " Cuthullin thus with warmth replies , " Pleasant as thunder in the heavens The sound of battle shall ...
... spear , ' Mid thousands shall my joy be found , And battle's gloom my soul shall cheer ! " " Pleasant and sweet the din of arms , " Cuthullin thus with warmth replies , " Pleasant as thunder in the heavens The sound of battle shall ...
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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.