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 118
... tomb is all our pride ! Our grandeur , and our love of fame : The mean and noble side by side , Affinity to dust must claim ! Then why pursue these fleeting joys ? Their power is transient ; short their zest ; I turn disgusted from such ...
... tomb is all our pride ! Our grandeur , and our love of fame : The mean and noble side by side , Affinity to dust must claim ! Then why pursue these fleeting joys ? Their power is transient ; short their zest ; I turn disgusted from such ...
Side 141
... tomb ! TO A DEAR YOUNG FRIEND , MRS . * JUNE 15th , 1842 . Come , dear one ! let thy gentle voice Revive the drooping head Of one , whom anguish long hath bowed , From whom e'en hope hath fled . Dear one ! I knew thee when a babe In thy ...
... tomb ! TO A DEAR YOUNG FRIEND , MRS . * JUNE 15th , 1842 . Come , dear one ! let thy gentle voice Revive the drooping head Of one , whom anguish long hath bowed , From whom e'en hope hath fled . Dear one ! I knew thee when a babe In thy ...
Side 148
... tomb . Oh ! dear to this heart is each fond recollection , And sacred the spot her nativity graced ! Which witnessed her virtues , her filial affection , And hallowed the spot where her ashes are placed . TO MY DAUGHTER MRS . A. E. T. ...
... tomb . Oh ! dear to this heart is each fond recollection , And sacred the spot her nativity graced ! Which witnessed her virtues , her filial affection , And hallowed the spot where her ashes are placed . TO MY DAUGHTER MRS . A. E. T. ...
Side 149
... tomb are shaded ! Fond memory to my withered soul Presents my fair , my blighted flower ! Mournful yet sweet her image comes As in that last , that dying hour , When , clasped within my feeble arms , I held MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . 149 The ...
... tomb are shaded ! Fond memory to my withered soul Presents my fair , my blighted flower ! Mournful yet sweet her image comes As in that last , that dying hour , When , clasped within my feeble arms , I held MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . 149 The ...
Side 160
... tomb arise ! From Cromla's hill , oh ! Cairbar , come ! Great Eth , descend from Lena's stream ; Haste , and avert green Erin's doom ! " Oh ! Ca - olt , as thou movest o'er Lone Mora's dreary whistling heath , Stretch thy white side as ...
... tomb arise ! From Cromla's hill , oh ! Cairbar , come ! Great Eth , descend from Lena's stream ; Haste , and avert green Erin's doom ! " Oh ! Ca - olt , as thou movest o'er Lone Mora's dreary whistling heath , Stretch thy white side as ...
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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.