ISBN: 9781150969126

RareBooksClub.com. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 56 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.1in.This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. … Mehr…

RareBooksClub.com. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 56 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.1in.This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1860 Excerpt: . . . eyes on the murmuring brook; It is not thine, the lofty verse that tells of warriors bold, Of the pomp of feudal Chivalry, and the deathless deeds of old, Great names that shine like burning orbs through the mighty realms of Art, And the wild, yet vain aspirings of the restless human heart. No! the blessed calm of English homes, remote from fear and strife, The chequered light of Thought which plays oer a Christian pastors life, --The Sabbath in the crowded fane--the sunset by the sea, --The shout of Childhoods noisy mirth, --are fitter themes for thee. The friendships waking in our hearts affections pure and deep, --The graves, above whose grassy mounds such bitter tears we weep, --The household love whose tenderness can soothe our souls, and shed The golden glow of Fairyland oer the paths we daily tread. Say not, It hath been spoken, Gods Word to sinful men, And never sound or token Shall stir our souls again, Or break the heavy stillness that so long oer Earth doth reign! No more the Monarch trembleth Before the grey-haired Seer; No cloudy pillar resteth On the Sanctuary here, --Yet God speaks unto us always, if we will but turn and hear. He speaks to us, not only In the thunder of the sky, But in hours of silence lonely, In our musings great and high, And the strong and deep emotions which within our bosoms lie. M potts doming g gmn. In accents undefiled To mortals let me teach Thy precepts pure and mild--Oh! grant me strength and speech, That the sweet angels who around me throng With truth and purity may fill my song! Oh! teach me to disdain, With spirit firm, not proud, Thoughts rash, and light, and vain; Nor heed the vulgar crowd Who smile in scorn, though the rapt Poets lay Bear the bright impress of Thy lustrous day! From white. . . This item ships from La Vergne,TN., RareBooksClub.com, RareBooksClub.com. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 80 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.2in.This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1879 Excerpt: . . . Must I, the lord of all these hills, A weary exiled wanderer roam; And quietly view thy ruined walls, My own, my loved ancestral home. The red-coats hurned thy lofty dome--Home by a thousand ties made dear--From war to thee how oft Ive come, With loves sweet joys, my soul to cheer. When peace did her white banner rear, And loving vassal and his lord Went forth to hunt the roe and deer, And turned to grace the festal board, The blood-red wine in plenty poured, And pibroch told of battles won, Till Senachie would in pride record The mighty deeds our sires had done. Then martial fire, in sire and son, Would burst into one glowing flame; And vows were breathed by every one, Hed neer disgrace the Cameron name. When time to raise our banner came, And fiery cross was swiftly sped, Where heroes bold did pant for fame, Twas aye to victory we led. The southern foe our name did dread, Though now Cullodens palm they bear, They in their own pale blood did tread, Had all our gallant clans been there. Come, shade of Bruce, my vigils share, Come, oer ungrateful Scotland mourn, She hath disowned thy rightful heir--Indignant fire my soul doth burn. To wear a foreign yoke Id spurn, Nor gainst my lawful king rebel, That crown and sceptres from him torn, In mercys cause they fain would tell. In Dutch or Guelph doth mercy dwell Ye gallant heroes of Glencoe, Arise in gory shrouds and tell Your mournful tale of dool and woe. Ye heroes great, whose hlood did flow Upon Cullodens dreary moor, Come tell now when ye were laid low The savage hound did stab ye oer. Be hushed, my heart, and grieve no more, This is no time to sit and rest, Ill hie me to a foreign shore, And strive to get our wrongs redressed. Sweet home, within thee every breast Did glow with love and purity. . . This item ships from La Vergne,TN., RareBooksClub.com<