Armstrong Browning Library | 19th Century Women Poets |
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(85) And the rude arrow's barb remains to tell H o w by its stroke, perchance, the mighty fell T o be forgotten. Vain the warrior's pride, The chieftain's power—they had no bard, and died. But other scenes, from their untroubled sphere, The eternal stars of night have witness'd here. There stands an altar of unsculptured stone, Far on the moor, a thing of ages gone, Propp'd on its granite pillars, whence the rains, And pure bright dews, have laved the crimson stains Left by dark rites of blood: for here, of yore, W h e n the bleak waste a robe of forest wore, And many a crested oak, which now lies low, Waved its wild wreath of sacred mistletoe ; Here, at dead midnight, through the haunted shade, O n Druid-harps the quivering moonbeam play'd, And spells were breath'd, that fill'd the deepening gloom With the pale, shadowy people of the tomb. Or, haply, torches waving through the night, Bade the red cairn-fires blaze from every height, Like battle-signals, whose unearthly gleams Threw o'er the desert's hundred hills and streams, A savage grandeur : while the starry skies Rung with the peal of mystic harmonies, As the loud harp its deep-toned hymns sent forth T o the storm-ruling powers, the war-gods of tha North. 8
Title | The Poetical Works of Mrs. Felicia Hemans |
Creator | Felicia Hemans |
Date | 1854 |
Physical Description | 394 p., ill., port. 20 cm. |
Publisher | Boston: Phillips, Sampson, and Company, New York: James C. Derby, 1854 |
Resource Type | Text |
Call Number | PR4780.A1 1854c |
Identifier | pr4780_a1_1854c |
Language | English |
Custodian | Baylor University - Armstrong Browning Library |
Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
Note | Inscription on front endpaper: "Sarah C [Pur?] a present/from/her Father J B [Pur?]/Travis /55" and on prelim. leaf: "Sarah C. [Pur?]/Independence/Texas." |
Format | Books |
Title | Page 93 |
Resource Type | Text |
Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
Full Text | (85) And the rude arrow's barb remains to tell H o w by its stroke, perchance, the mighty fell T o be forgotten. Vain the warrior's pride, The chieftain's power—they had no bard, and died. But other scenes, from their untroubled sphere, The eternal stars of night have witness'd here. There stands an altar of unsculptured stone, Far on the moor, a thing of ages gone, Propp'd on its granite pillars, whence the rains, And pure bright dews, have laved the crimson stains Left by dark rites of blood: for here, of yore, W h e n the bleak waste a robe of forest wore, And many a crested oak, which now lies low, Waved its wild wreath of sacred mistletoe ; Here, at dead midnight, through the haunted shade, O n Druid-harps the quivering moonbeam play'd, And spells were breath'd, that fill'd the deepening gloom With the pale, shadowy people of the tomb. Or, haply, torches waving through the night, Bade the red cairn-fires blaze from every height, Like battle-signals, whose unearthly gleams Threw o'er the desert's hundred hills and streams, A savage grandeur : while the starry skies Rung with the peal of mystic harmonies, As the loud harp its deep-toned hymns sent forth T o the storm-ruling powers, the war-gods of tha North. 8 |
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