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able allowed appeared appointed arms army arrived attended body Britain British brought called carried cause circumstances claims command concluded conduct consequence considerable considered constitution consul continued court Dated daughter Ditto duties effect entered establishment Europe foot force France French give given granted hands honour hope important India interests Ireland island Italy John king lady land late leave letter lord majesty majesty's manner March means ment ministers months nature necessary never object observed officers opinion parliament parties passed peace persons port possession present prince principle question received remain republic respect royal sent ships signed situation taken thing thought tion took trade treaty troops whole wish
816 ページ - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
814 ページ - Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! Say, rush'd the bold eagle exultingly forth, From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the north? Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! Ah! home let him speed — for the spoiler is nigh.
817 ページ - The world was sad ! — the garden was a wild ! And man, the hermit, sigh'd — till woman smiled...
815 ページ - Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe ! And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
815 ページ - Lo ! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath, Behold where he flies on his desolate path ! Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from my sight : Rise ! rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight ! — 'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors ; Culloden is lost, and my country deplores. But where is the iron-bound prisoner?
814 ページ - Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast ? ;Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn ; Return to thy dwelling ! all lonely return ! For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.
726 ページ - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
817 ページ - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few, shall part, where many meet! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
813 ページ - LOCHIEL, Lochiel ! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array ! For a field of the dead' rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight. They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown ; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down ! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
814 ページ - Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watchfire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning ; no rider is there ; But its bridle is- red with the sign of despair. Weep Albin ! to death and captivity led ! Oh weep ! but thy tears cannot number the dead : For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, Culloden ! that reeks with the blood of the brave.