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Página 21 - Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous 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.
Página 136 - tis not in grief to harm me While thy love is left to me; Oh, 'twere not in joy to charm me Were that joy unmixed with thee. Know, my soul, thy full salvation; Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; Joy to find in every station Something still to do or bear.
Página 136 - Man may trouble and distress me ; 'Twill but drive me to Thy breast. Life with trials hard may press me ; Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. O, 'tis not in grief to harm me, While Thy love is left to me ! O, 'twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmixed with Thee.
Página 66 - A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast And fills the white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast...
Página 21 - Like leviathans afloat, Lay their bulwarks on the brine; While the sign of battle flew On the lofty British line : It was ten of April morn by the chime As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath, For a time. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene ; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. ''Hearts of oak...
Página 81 - By thy helpless infant years, By thy life of want and tears, By thy days of sore distress In the savage wilderness, By the dread mysterious hour Of the insulting tempter's power, Turn, O turn, a favouring eye, Hear our solemn litany.
Página 18 - Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow ; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow.
Página 21 - Ye are brothers ! ye are men ! And we conquer but to save : So peace instead of death let us bring ; But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, With the crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our king.
Página 136 - ABIDE with me ; fast falls the eventide ; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide ; When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Página 16 - Forbid not thee to weep : — Nor will the Christian host, Nor will thy father's spirit grieve, To see thee, on the battle's eve, Lamenting, take a mournful leave Of her who loved thee most : She was the rainbow to thy sight ; Thy sun — thy heaven — of lost delight! " To-morrow let us do or die! But when the bolt of death is hurl'd, Ah ! whither then with thee to fly, Shall Outalissi roam the world?