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affection Allan's appear bard beauty bend beneath bless blood bosom breast breath brow Calmar chiefs claim clouds crowds dark dead dear death deeds distant dream dwell dying early expire fair fall fame fate Fathers fear feel fire flame flow foes fond former friendship glory glow hall hand head hear heart heroes hope hour knew leave light live Lochlin locks Lord mingle Morven mountain ne'er never night Nisus o'er o’er once Orla Oscar path peace pride raise resign rest rise roll round roved sacred scene seek seen shade share sigh sleep smiles song sons soul sound spear steel storm strain tears thee thine thou thought throng TRANSLATION truth voice wave wild wind wings wish wonted wound young youth
Strana 120 - Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd ; My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid ; On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd, As daily I strode through the...
Strana 1 - THROUGH thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle ; Thou, the hall of my fathers, art gone to decay ; In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle Have choked up the rose which late bloom'd in the way.
Strana 63 - ANIMULA! vagula, blandula, Hospes, comesque, corporis, Quse nunc abibis in loca? Pallidula, rigida, nudula, Nee, ut soles, dabis jocos.
Strana 121 - I strode through the pine-cover'd glade ; I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star ; For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.
Strana 63 - Ah ! Gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite, Friend and associate of this clay ! To what unknown region borne, Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? No more, with wonted humour gay, But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.
Strana 1 - Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day ; yet a few years and the blast of the desert comes ; it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield.
Strana 123 - Years have roll'd on, Loch na Garr, since I left you, Years must elapse ere I tread you again ; Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you, Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain. England ! thy beauties are tame and domestic To one who has roved o'er the mountains afar : Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic, The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr ! TO ROMANCE.
Strana 120 - AWAY, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses ! In you let the minions of luxury rove ; Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love : Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, Round their white summits though elements war ; Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.