Life and Letters of Thomas Campbell, Volume 2

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William Beattie
Harper & brothers, 1850
 

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Page 313 - Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood ; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.
Page 487 - So live, that when thy summons comes, to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Page 487 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Page 488 - Can I forget the dismal night that gave My soul's best part for ever to the grave? How silent did his old companions tread, By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead, Through breathing statues, then unheeded things, Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings! What awe did the slow solemn knell inspire; The pealing organ, and the pausing choir; The duties by the lawn-robed prelate paid : And the last words that dust to dust conveyed!
Page 39 - Page. So stately and so graceful is her form I thought at first her stature was gigantic; But on a near approach, I found, in truth, She scarcely does surpass the middle size.
Page 168 - But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion, He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh. Sad is my fate...
Page 39 - For Time hath laid his hand so gently on her, As he, too, had been awed.
Page 77 - As monumental bronze unchanged his look ; A soul that pity touched, but never shook ; Trained from his tree-rocked cradle to his bier The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook Impassive fearing but the shame of fear A stoic of the woods a man without a tear.
Page 456 - This spirit shall return to Him That gave its heavenly spark ; Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim, When thou thyself art dark ; No ! it shall live again, and shine In bliss unknown to beams of thine, By Him recall'd to breath, Who captive led captivity, Who robb'd the grave of victory, And took the sting from death.
Page 88 - But hallow'd as the types of real woe! Daughter of England ! for a nation's sighs, A nation's heart went with thine obsequies ! And oft shall time revert a look of grief On thine existence, beautiful and brief. Fair spirit ! send thy blessing from above...

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