Dermot O'Brien, Or, The Taking of Tredagh: A Tale of 1649

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Stringer & Townsend, 1849 - 166 pàgines

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Pàgina 94 - Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke.
Pàgina 95 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
Pàgina 41 - A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command ; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel 13 light. XV.— I WANDERED LONELY. 1804. I WANDERED lonely as a cloud...
Pàgina 137 - God ! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood...
Pàgina 137 - He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender — kind, And grieved for those he left behind; With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb...
Pàgina 26 - DAY set on Norham's castled steep,* And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, And Cheviot's mountains lone : The battled towers, the donjon keep,* The loophole grates, where captives weep, The flanking walls that round it sweep, In yellow lustre shone.
Pàgina 137 - I've seen the sick and ghastly bed Of Sin delirious with its dread: But these were horrors — this was woe Unmix'd with such — but sure and slow. He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender — kind, And grieved for those he left behind...

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