The League of the Alps: The Seige of Valencia, The Vespers of Palermo, and Other Poems

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Hilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins, 1826 - 480 pages

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Page 11 - And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear ; — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Page 11 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame : Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear : They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free.
Page 11 - There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God.
Page 88 - And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit ; and they cried out for fear. 27 But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer ; it is I ; be not afraid.
Page 11 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 110 - Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though child-like form.
Page 67 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death!
Page 43 - ... low — and wept like childhood then, — Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! — He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown, — He flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow, '.'No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now.
Page 43 - Father!" at length he murmured low — and wept like childhood then— Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! — He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown — He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,
Page 58 - The gentle girl, that bow'd her fair young head, When thou wert gone, in silent sorrow dying. Brother, true friend \ the tender and the brave — She pined to share thy grave. Fame was thy gift from others — but for her, To whom the wide...

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