Personal and political ballads, arranged and ed. by F. Moore, Volume 64

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Frank Moore
George P. Putnam, 1864

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Page 213 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha, for Scotland's King and Law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free-man stand, or Free-man fa', Let him follow me!
Page 24 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Page 121 - Shall they complain Of present pain, Who trust in God's hereafter ? For who that leans on His right arm Was ever yet forsaken ? What righteous cause can suffer harm, If He its part has taken?
Page 182 - This day we fashion Destiny, our web of Fate we spin ; This day for all hereafter choose we holiness or sin; Even now from starry Gerizim, or Ebal's cloudy crown, We call the dews of blessing or the bolts of cursing down...
Page 330 - THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND MORE We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more, From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore; We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear, With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear; We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before: We are coming*, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more...
Page 106 - General," the battered soldier cried, " The days of Eighteen Hundred Twelve, when I was at your side ? Have you forgotten Johnson, that fought at Lundy's Lane ? 'Tis true I'm old and pensioned, but I want to fight again.
Page 331 - If you look across the hill-tops that meet the northern sky, Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry; And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside. And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride, And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour: We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
Page 88 - And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Page 3 - There sot an old cove in the dark and damp, And at everybody as passed that road A stick or a stone this old cove throwed. And venever he flung his stick or his stone, He'd set up a song of
Page 251 - Would it jest meet your views, John, To wait an' sue their heirs ? Ole Uncle S. sez he,

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