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 53
... swords , and " all the pomp and cir- cumstance of war , " so new to Mrs. Stanley , caused her heart to beat violently . She strained her eyes to discover a boat , but no ! there was no boat there . The moment the wagon arrived at the ...
... swords , and " all the pomp and cir- cumstance of war , " so new to Mrs. Stanley , caused her heart to beat violently . She strained her eyes to discover a boat , but no ! there was no boat there . The moment the wagon arrived at the ...
Side 94
... alone . Alas ! how short - lived was their joy ; The blast of war blew shrill ; The sword of desolation flew O'er mountain , dale and hill . The mighty Eglon was dethroned By Ehud's strength and power 94 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
... alone . Alas ! how short - lived was their joy ; The blast of war blew shrill ; The sword of desolation flew O'er mountain , dale and hill . The mighty Eglon was dethroned By Ehud's strength and power 94 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
Side 165
... sword of Duchomar he fell ! ' Neath the spreading shade of the stately oak , Where the noisy streams do swell ; " To the caverns of Tura Duchomar came , And he spake to the beautiful maid , The cherished young daughter of Cormac the ...
... sword of Duchomar he fell ! ' Neath the spreading shade of the stately oak , Where the noisy streams do swell ; " To the caverns of Tura Duchomar came , And he spake to the beautiful maid , The cherished young daughter of Cormac the ...
Side 167
... sword , And mark the red blood on its blade . " Here wanders the blood of thy Cathba brave , And he fell by Branno's stream ! On Cromla's heights I will raise his tomb , ' Neath the pale moon's flickering beam ; " Oh , turn on Duchomar ...
... sword , And mark the red blood on its blade . " Here wanders the blood of thy Cathba brave , And he fell by Branno's stream ! On Cromla's heights I will raise his tomb , ' Neath the pale moon's flickering beam ; " Oh , turn on Duchomar ...
Side 168
... sword , ' twas my Cathba's arm That once wielded its shining blade ! Thou art dark to me , thou terrible man , Would Morna thine arm could have staid ! ' " He gave the sword to her streaming tears , And she pierced his savage breast ...
... sword , ' twas my Cathba's arm That once wielded its shining blade ! Thou art dark to me , thou terrible man , Would Morna thine arm could have staid ! ' " He gave the sword to her streaming tears , And she pierced his savage breast ...
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alarmed Anna arms babes battle beam beautiful Beekmantown blessings bosom bowed brave breast bright brow Calmar Carril Chazy chief child cloud Connal cried Cromla's Cuthullin dark daughters dear death dreadful Duchomar enemy entreated Erin Erin's eyes fair fame father fear feeble fever Fillan Fingal flowing tears Gaul gentle grief hand happy hast hath heart heath heaven heroes hill hour husband king knew lady Lena's Lochlin's lonely Lord Louisa Macomb maid mamma Margaret mighty mind Moab Morna morning Morven's mother mournful mournful tidings Naomi neath night noble o'er Orpah Ossian pale passed peace Peru Plattsburgh played school Polly pride raised replied roll Ruth scene shield silent song sorrow soul sound spear spirit Stanley star-spangled banner storm stream Swaran sweet sword tears tender thee thine thou Torman trembled uncon valiant voice wagons watched waves wife young youth
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Side 190 - ... 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 169 - I may meet the lovely maid of Toscar." " 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.