Bonaparte (Sir Walter Scott Poems)
From a rude isle, his ruder lineage came.The spark, that, from a suburb hovel's hearthAscending, wraps some capital in flame,Hath ...
From a rude isle, his ruder lineage came.The spark, that, from a suburb hovel's hearthAscending, wraps some capital in flame,Hath ...
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,Who never to himself hath said,'This is my own, my native land!'Whose heart ...
Where shall the lover rest Whom the fates sever From the true maiden's breast, Parted for ever?-- Where, through groves ...
Where shall the lover rest Whom the fates sever From his true maiden's breast Parted for ever? Where, through groves ...
Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; In twilight copse the ...
It was an English ladye bright, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) And she would marry a Scottish knight, ...
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native ...
BREATHES there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, 'This is my own, my native ...
TO mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears, And in her ...
BREATHES there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, 'This is my own, my native ...
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see, And lovers' ears in hearing; And love, in life's extremity, Can lend an ...
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