South Songs: From the Lays of Later DaysThomas Cooper De Leon Blelock & Company, 1866 - 153 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 32
Page x
... NEVER WIN THEM BACK , . BEAUREGARD'S APPEAL , THE CAMEO BRACELET , MELT THE BELLS , CANNON SONG , BATTLE EVE , John R. Thompson , PAGE J. W. Overall , 80 • Harry Flash , 83 • 84 Anon , 88 Paul H. Hayne , 90 James R. Randall , 92 Anon ...
... NEVER WIN THEM BACK , . BEAUREGARD'S APPEAL , THE CAMEO BRACELET , MELT THE BELLS , CANNON SONG , BATTLE EVE , John R. Thompson , PAGE J. W. Overall , 80 • Harry Flash , 83 • 84 Anon , 88 Paul H. Hayne , 90 James R. Randall , 92 Anon ...
Page 35
... never makes a moan ! They hewed him down with their blades of steel , Where the troopers charged from the camp of the foe ; But he was not killed - although I feel , It would have been better so ; For my heart within me is very sad , As ...
... never makes a moan ! They hewed him down with their blades of steel , Where the troopers charged from the camp of the foe ; But he was not killed - although I feel , It would have been better so ; For my heart within me is very sad , As ...
Page 36
... never be Beside his northern tomb . And I think of another , who watches too , When the early stars are bright on the hill , Nor dreams that his heart - so confiding and true- Will soon be forever still . Ah ! many , in vain , to their ...
... never be Beside his northern tomb . And I think of another , who watches too , When the early stars are bright on the hill , Nor dreams that his heart - so confiding and true- Will soon be forever still . Ah ! many , in vain , to their ...
Page 46
... ! What ! Repentant ? Never he ! Down he smites the priests and friars , And the city lights with fires . " A furore Normanorum , Libera nos , O Domine ! " Ah ! the children and the maidens , ' Tis 46 A Poem that needs no Dedication .
... ! What ! Repentant ? Never he ! Down he smites the priests and friars , And the city lights with fires . " A furore Normanorum , Libera nos , O Domine ! " Ah ! the children and the maidens , ' Tis 46 A Poem that needs no Dedication .
Page 48
... Never a quail of fear , Never a groan― Sob ' mid the fight they win , Tears their stern eyes within ? Ashby , our paladin ! Ashby is dead ! Dash , dash the tear away ! Crush down the pain ! Dulce et decus be Fittest refrain . Why should ...
... Never a quail of fear , Never a groan― Sob ' mid the fight they win , Tears their stern eyes within ? Ashby , our paladin ! Ashby is dead ! Dash , dash the tear away ! Crush down the pain ! Dulce et decus be Fittest refrain . Why should ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ashby is dead banner barefooted boys battle bleeding blessed blood brave breast breath bright eyes brothers brutal bands brutum fulmen bugles cannon's dear death deeds Domine dust earth Exile's Song eyes are sparkling fair fall fame fathers field field of glory fight flag foemen gather fast forever forgive or forget fought Freedom Furl furore Normanorum glad glory grave groan guns hand Hark hated foemen gather hath hear heart hero hill honor lies Jackson kiss Libera light lips Maryland Melt the bells Monody mountain mournful Neath never northern tomb o'er the River Old Land passed o'er path to honor Peace plain poem prayer proud repented Right rushing shadows fall shining skies smile Somebody's darling Somebody's watching song soul South Southern spur strife sweet sword tears Templestowe Thee There's faith thine Thou tide TITUS OATES to-day toll tyrant Virginia weep yore
Popular passages
Page 67 - Where the dead and dying lay, Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's Darling was borne one day : — Somebody's Darling, so young and so brave, Wearing yet, on his pale, sweet face, Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. Matted and damp are the curls of gold...
Page 111 - tis the red dawn of the day, Maryland! Come with thy panoplied array, Maryland! With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, With Watson's blood at Monterey, With fearless Lowe and dashing May, Maryland, my Maryland ! Dear Mother, burst the tyrant's chain, Maryland! Virginia should not call in vain, Maryland! She meets her sisters on the plain,— "/Sic semper!
Page 144 - Banner — it is trailing, While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For, though conquered, they adore it, — Love the cold, dead hands that bore it, Weep for those who fell before it, Pardon those who trailed and tore it; And oh, wildly they deplore it, Now to furl and fold it so!
Page 68 - Was it a mother's soft and white? And have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in their waves of light? God knows best ! he was somebody's love ; Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand.
Page 78 - Virginian hills Against embattled foes, And planted there, in valleys fair, The lily and the rose; Whose fragrance lives in many lands, Whose beauty stars the earth, And lights the hearths...
Page 112 - I see the blush upon thy cheek, Maryland ! For thou wast ever bravely meek, Maryland ! But lo! there surges forth a shriek. From hill to hill, from creek to creek, Potomac calls to Chesapeake, Maryland, my Maryland! Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, Maryland ! Thou wilt not crook to his control, Maryland ! Better the fire upon thee roll, Better the shot, the blade, the bowl, Than crucifixion of the soul, Maryland, my Maryland!
Page 144 - Banner — it is trailing! While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For though conquered, they adore it! Love the cold dead hands that bore it! Weep for those who fell before it! Pardon those who trailed and tore it, But, Oh! wildly they deplore it Now who furl and fold it so.
Page 127 - For he looked so like you, as he lay on his back, That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet. "But I snatched off the trinket, — this locket of gold; An inch from the centre my lead broke its way, Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold, Of a beautiful lady in bridal array.
Page 27 - Twas in the dying of the day, The darkness grew so still; The drowsy pipe of evening birds Was hushed upon the hill; Athwart the shadows of the vale Slumbered the men of might, And one lone sentry paced his rounds, To watch the camp that night.