Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky A stoic of the woods, To the Rainbow. a man without a tear. O Love! in such a wilderness as this. Part iii. Stanza 1. The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below! Again to the battle, Achaians! Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance! Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree, It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free. Stanza 5. Song of the Greeks. Drink ye to her that each loves best! And if you nurse a flame That's told but to her mutual breast, To live in hearts we leave behind Oh leave this barren spot to me! Drink ye to Her. Hallowed Ground. Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!1 The Beech-Tree's Petition. HENRY CLAY. 1777-1852. The gentleman [Josiah Quincy] cannot have forgotten his own sentiment, uttered even on the floor of this House, "Peaceably if we can, forcibly if we must." 2 Speech, 1813. 1 Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough! G. P. MORRIS: Woodman, spare that Tree. 2 See Quincy, page 505. Government is a trust, and the officers of the government are trustees; and both the trust and the trustees are created for the benefit of the people. Speech at Ashland, Ky., March, 1829. I have heard something said about allegiance to the South. I know no South, no North, no East, no West, to which I owe any allegiance. Speech, 1848. Sir, I would rather be right than be President. And the star-spangled banner, oh long may it wave Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation! 1 Then conquer we must when our cause it is just, Ibid. HORACE SMITH. 1779-1849. Thinking is but an idle waste of thought, And nought is everything and everything is nought. Rejected Addresses. Cui Bono? In the name of the Prophet - figs. Johnson's Ghost. And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) When the Memnonium was in all its glory. Address to the Mummy at Belzoni's Exhibition. 1 It made and preserves us a nation. -MORRIS: The Flag of our Union. THOMAS MOORE. 1779-1852. When Time who steals our years away Song. From Juvenile Poems. Weep on! and as thy sorrows flow, Where bastard Freedom waves The fustian flag in mockery over slaves. Anacreontic. To the Lord Viscount Forbes, written from the City of Washington. How shall we rank thee upon glory's page, To Thomas Hume. I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Ballad Stanzas. A Canadian Boat-Song. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, Ibid. The minds of some of our statesmen, like the pupil of the human eye, contract themselves the more, the stronger light there is shed upon them. Preface to Corruption and Intolerance. Like a young eagle who has lent his plume 1 See Waller, page 220. Corruption. A Persian's heaven is eas'ly made: "T is but black eyes and lemonade. Intercepted Letters. Letter vi. There was a little man, and he had a little soul; Little Man and Little Soul. Go where glory waits thee!1 Oh, still remember me! Go where Glory waits thee. Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade, Oh breathe not his Name. And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er; And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more. Ibid. The Harp that once through Tara's Halls. Who ran Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all. On the Death of Sheridan. Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Good at a fight, but better at a play; Ibid. On a Cast of Sheridan's Hand. 1 This going ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur. LOWELL: The Biglow Papers. First Series, No. 11. Though an angel should write, still 't is devils must print. Fly not yet; 't is just the hour Begins to bloom for sons of night Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon. When did morning ever break, And find such beaming eyes awake? Fly not yet. Ibid. Ibid. And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore. Rich and rare were the Gems she wore. There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet. The Meeting of the Waters. Oh, weep for the hour When to Eveleen's bower The lord of the valley with false vows came. Eveleen's Bower. Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side Come, send round the Wine. No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets, Believe me, if all those endearing young Charms. |