- On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh,
No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;
No harp like my own could so cheerily play,
And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.
- The Harper, st. 1 (1799).
- 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.
- The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave!
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
And charge with all thy chivalry!
- Few, few shall part where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
- There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath,
For a time.
- Ye are brothers! ye are men!
And we conquer but to save.
- Battle of the Baltic, st. 5 (1805).
- Oh, how hard it is to find
The one just suited to our mind!
- Oh leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
- Oh! once the harp of Innisfail
Was strung full high to notes of gladness;
But yet it often told a tale
Of more prevailing sadness.
- O'Connor's Child, st. 1 (1810).
- Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
- In life's morning march, when my bosom was young.
- But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
- To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.
- Absence! is not the soul torn by it
From more than light, or life, or breath?
'Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quiet,—
The pain without the peace of death!
- "Absence", The poetical works of Thomas Campbell (1837).
- A chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!"
- "Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"
"O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.
- "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief
"Across this stormy water;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! O my daughter!"
- 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
- But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind.
- O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save!
- Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shrieked—as Kosciusko fell!
- On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below.
- And rival all but Shakespeare's name below.
- Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name?
- Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Oh what were man?—a world without a sun.
- The world was sad, the garden was a wild,
And man the hermit sigh'd—till woman smiled.
- While Memory watches o'er the sad review
Of joys that faded like the morning dew.
- There shall he love when genial morn appears,
Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.
- And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.
- Let Winter come! let polar spirits sweep
The darkening world, and tempest-troubled deep!
Though boundless snows the withered heath deform,
And the dim sun scarce wanders through the storm,
Yet shall the smile of social love repay,
With mental light, the melancholy day!
And, when its short and sullen noon is o'er,
The ice-chained waters slumbering on the shore,
How bright the fagots in his little hall
Blaze on the hearth, and warm the pictured wall!
- That gems the starry girdle of the year.
- Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll
Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!
- O star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there,
To waft us home the message of despair?
- But sad as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
- Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
But leave, oh! leave the light of Hope behind!
What though my wingèd hours of bliss have been
Like angels visits, few and far between.
- Ye mariners of England,
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
- While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
- Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.
- The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
- Gertrude of Wyoming - full text
- A stoic of the woods—a man without a tear.
- Part I, stanza 23 (1809).
- O Love! in such a wilderness as this.
- The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below!
- To-morrow let us do or die.
Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)Edit
- Quotes reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
- The hunter and the deer a shade.
- O'Connor's Child, Stanza 5.
- Another's sword has laid him low,
Another's and another's;
And every hand that dealt the blow—
Ah me! it was a brother's!
- O'Connor's Child, Stanza 10.
- Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,
With his back to the field and his feet to the foe,
And leaving in battle no blot on his name,
Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
- And rustic life and poverty
Grow beautiful beneath his touch.
- Ode to the Memory of Burns.
- Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,
Whose truths electrify the sage.
- Ode to the Memory of Burns.
- There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
- To bear is to conquer our fate.
- On visiting a Scene in Argyleshire.
- Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.
- Again to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
- Drink ye to her that each loves best!
And if you nurse a flame
That 's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.