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When the stormy winds do blow ; 1
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

Ye Mariners of England
The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.

There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

Battle of the Baltic.
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! Hohenlinder
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.

Ibid. There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh’d, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.

The Exile of Erin, To bear is to conquer our fate.

On visiting a Scene in Argyleshire. The sentinel stars set their watch in the sky.?

The Soldier's Dream. In life's morning march, when my bosom was young.

Ibid. But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

Ibid. 1 When the stormy winds do blow. – MARTYN PARKER: Ye Gentlemen of England.

2 The starres, bright centinels of the skies. – HABINGTON: Castara, Dialogue between Night and Araphil.

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky

When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy

To teach me what thou art. To the Rainbow

A stoic of the woods, – a man without a tear.

Gertrude of Wyoming. Part i. Stanza 23. O Love! in such a wilderness as this.

Part ji. Stanza 1.

The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below! Starza 5.
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.

Song of the Greeks.


to her that each loves best!
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.

Drink ye to Per.
To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.

Hallowed Ground.
Oh leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!

The Beech-Tree's Petition.

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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."

Speech, 1813.

1 Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!

G. P. MORRIS: Woodman, spare that Tree. 2 See Quincy, page 505.

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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.

Speech, 1850 (referring to the Compromise Measures).

F. S. KEY. 1779-1843.

And the star-spangled banner, oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave !

The Star-Spangled Banner. Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a

Then conquer we must when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, “ In God is our trust!”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.


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


Johnson's Ghost. And thou hast walked about (how strange a story !)

In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory.

Address to the Mummy at Belzoni's Exhibition. ? It made and preserves us a nation. - MORRIS: The Flag of our Uniun. THOMAS MOORE. 1779–1852.

When Time who steals our years away

Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay,

And half our joys renew. Song. From Juvenile Poems,

Weep on! and as thy sorrows flow,
I'll taste the luxury of woe.

Where bastard Freedom waves
The fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

To the Lord Viscount Forbes, written from the City of Washinglon. How shall we rank thee upon glory's page, Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage?

To Thomas Hume. I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd

Above the green elms, that a cottage was near; And I said, “ If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here."

Ballad Stanzas. Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.

A Canadian Boat-Song. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.

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 To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom, See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart Which rank corruption destines for their heart."

Corruption I See Waller, page 220.

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;
And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!

Little Man and Little Soul.
Go where glory waits thee! 1
But while fame elates thee,
Oh, still remember me !

Go where Glory waits thee.

Oh, breathe not his name ! let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid,

Oh breathe not his Name.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,

Ibid. Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

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.

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, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.

Ibid. Good at a fight, but better at a play ; Godlike in giving, but the devil to pay.

On a Cast of Sheridan's Hand. This goin ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur. — LOWELL : The Biglow Papers. First Series, No. 11.

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