The Poetical Works of Mrs. Felicia Hemans

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Phillips, Sampson & Company, 1849 - 394 páginas
 

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Página 349 - Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long ! The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke midst festal song. Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, But all is not thine own.
Página 348 - Far down, and shining through their stillness lies ! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, Won from ten thousand royal Argosies ! — Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main ; Earth claims not these again.
Página 349 - O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown : Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee ! — Restore the dead, thou sea ! BRING FLOWERS.
Página 123 - 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.
Página 198 - For the strength of the hills we bless thee, Our God, our fathers...
Página 190 - England's dead. The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave ! Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave ! Go, stranger ! track the deep, Free, free the white sail spread ! Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep Where rest not England's dead.
Página 160 - THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Página 124 - Away from their childhood's land? 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! Aye, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God!
Página 125 - I come, I come ! ye have called me long-; I come o'er the mountains, with light and song. Ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth By the winds which tell of the violet's birth. By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Página 182 - How the lone paths retrace where thou wert playing So late, along the mountains, at my side ? And I, in joyous pride, By every place of flowers my course delaying, Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair, Beholding thee so fair ! And, oh ! the home whence thy bright smile hath parted, Will it not seem as if the sunny day Turn'd from its door away ? While through its chambers wandering, weary-hearted, I languish for thy voice, which...

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