Adrastus America arms army Athens battle blessings blood Born brave breath Brutus Cćsar Catiline cause civil Constitution countrymen courage Crown Ctesiphon death Decemvir defence Demosthenes died earth elocution eloquence enemy England eternal Europe eyes fathers fear feel fight forever France freedom French Revolution Gentlemen give glorious glory Government Greece hand hath heart Heaven Henry Grattan honor hope House human Ireland justice King labor land liberty live look Lord mind minister Mirabeau moral Nation nature never noble o'er oppression orator Original Translation ourselves Parliament Patricians patriotism peace political principles religion Republic Revolution Richard Cromwell Roman Rome sacred sentiments slaves soul sound Spain Sparta Spartacus speak speech spirit stand sword tell thee things thou thought tion triumph truth tyrant Union universal suffrage utterance Victor Hugo victory virtue voice Warren Hastings words
Page 120 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Page 337 - States dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as : What is all this worth...
Page 462 - These are thy glorious Works, Parent of good, Almighty! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair: thyself how wondrous then, Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels: for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures...
Page 499 - Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! I feel my heart new open'd : O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes...
Page 94 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all, — to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Page 152 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 496 - Plutus' mine, richer than gold: If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart. Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.
Page 413 - River where ford there was none : But ere he alighted at Netherby gate The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he...
Page 71 - Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day : The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands ; Condemn'da needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not chance at length her error mend ? Did no subverted empire mark his end ? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? Or hostile millions press him to the ground. His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand ; He left the name, at which the world grew...