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Seite 80 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
Seite 216 - Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags : ' Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine; And after one hour more, 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.
Seite 65 - STRANGER ! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced The northern realms of ancient Caledon, Where the proud Queen of Wilderness hath placed By lake and cataract her lonely throne...
Seite 78 - By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed, By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorned, By strangers honoured and by strangers mourned...
Seite 35 - But — doubt not aught from mine array. Thou art my guest ; I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle Ford ; Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one valiant hand, Though on our strife lay every vale Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. So move we on ; I only meant To show the reed on which you leant, Deeming this path you might pursue Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.
Seite 11 - Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
Seite 220 - This receptive faculty, for power it cannot be called, is neither voluntary nor constant. The appearances have no dependence upon choice ; they cannot be summoned, detained, or recalled. The impression is sudden, and the effect often painful.
Seite 112 - Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banished peace, thy laurels torn! Thy sons, for valour long renowned, Lie slaughtered on their native ground; Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door; In smoky ruins sunk they lie, The monuments of cruelty. The wretched owner sees afar...