Collins who passed in 1993. O British patriots, that were wont to speak Once loudly on thjs theme, now hushed or meek! Why does my soul this gush of fondness feel? Then for a beam of joy to light- In memory's sad and wakeful eye! Now labyrinths, which but themselves can pierce, Methinks, conduct them to some pleasant ground, Where welcome hills shut out the universe, And pines their lawny walk encompass round ; There, if a pause delicious converse found, T was but when o'er each heart the idea stole, Perchance a while in joy's oblivion drowned That come what inay, while life's glad pulses roll, Indissolubly thus should soul be knit to soul. In such a far forsaken vale, And such, sweet Eldurn vale, is thine, Afflicted nature shall inhale Heaven-borrowed thoughts and joys divine j No linger wish, no more repine, For man's neglect or woman's scorn ; Then wed thee to an exile's lot, For if the world hath loved thee not, Its absence may be borne. Mute, gazing, agonL'ng, To paint ye feel it, Britons, in your hearts! But still her health gave way to secret woe, And long she pined for broken hearts die slow! For woe to the Gael people! Witch-legends Ronald scorned ghost, kelpie,wraith 7 And all the trumpery of vulgar faith ; Grave matrons even were shocked to hear him slight Authenticated facts of second-sight Yet never flinched his mockery to confound The brutal superstition reigning round. Here the news of his father's death reached him, and he hastened to Edinburgh to console his widowed mother.
He's dead alone that lacks her light! Of life itself a parting take, But never of you, my love Never of you! Hushed was the revellers' sound, They were struck as mute as the dead, And their hearts were appalled by the very sound Of his footsteps' measured tread. Mild be the doom of Heaven as thou wert mild! In March, 1801, when hostilities broke out between Britain and Denmark, Altona was no longer a safe res- idence for Campbell. The lovely Gertrude, safe from present harm, Had laid her cheek, and clasped her hands of snow On Waldegrave's shoulder, half within his arm Enclosed, that felt her heart, and hushed its wild alarm! Here lie passed through the usual curriculum of four years, mingling his studies as Scotch students generally do, with grout dis- advantage to their scholarship, though not to their development as men with miscellaneous reading, news- papers not certainly excepted, attendance on debating societies, flute playing, and social meetings, and eking out his subsistence by private tuition. Ye must be heavens that make us sure Of heavenly love! Can you keep the bee from ranging, Or the ringdove's neck from changing? But short that contemplation sad and short The pause to bid each much-loved scene adieu! The family thanks the attentive, caring nursing staff and administration at Coleman House; the Jewish Healthcare Center Inc. And Poland, by the Northern Condor's beak And talons torn, lies prostrated again.
One night of horror round me grew ; Or if I saw, or felt, or knew, 7 T was but when those grim visages,. Most of the prictures we have found of the ship is at the dock, but now we have this beautiful picture to add to our family file. He hid it in a cave, and wrought The live-long day laborious ; lurking Until he launched a tiny boat By mighty working. Luke the Evangelist Church, 70 West Main St. Instead of being so far apart, together, can we not be? Mysterious worlds, untravelled by the sun! Though the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and bright, In the days of delusion by fancy combined With the vanishing phantoms of love and delight Abandon my soul, like a dream of the night, And leave but a desert behind. Our hearts bid the defiance! Star of love's soft interviews, Parted lovers on the muse ; Their remembrancer in Heaven Of thrilling vows thou art Too delicious to be riven Bv absence from the heart.
Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour! I ask that, till the day you die. Or yield the lyre of Heaven another string. As most poets do, Campbell wavered between Theism and Agnosticism. Why do I joy the lonely spot to view, By artless friendship blessed when life was new? Thou maid that in my inmost thought Art i'ancifully sainted, Why liv'st thou not why art thou nought But canvass sweetly painted? All went harmonious till the guest began To talk about his kindred, chief and clan, And, with his own biography engrossed, Marked not the changed demeanor of each host ; Nor how old choleric Norman's cheek became Flushed at the Campbell and Breadalbane name. Of cheerful temper, habits strict and sage, He reached, enjoyed, a patriarchal age Loved to the last by the Macdonalds.
Transfer it from the sword's appeal To Peace and Love. Truth, ever lovely, since the world began, The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man, How can thy words from balmy slumber start lleposing Virtue pillowed on the heart! Or bards who may have swayed at will And soothed that little troubled world The human heart with sweeter skill. Yet preaching from clime to clime, He hath roamed the earth for ages, And hither he shall come in time When the wrath of the heathen rages, In time a remnant from the sword Ah! Lord Byron 1788-1824 British poet. In yonder pensile orb, and every sphere That gems the starry girdle of the year ; In those unmeasured worlds, she bids thee tell, Pure from then- God, created millions dwell, Whose names and natures, unrevealed below, We yet shall learn, and wonder as we know ; For, as lona's saint, a giant form, Throned on her towers, conversing with the storm, When o'er each Runic altar, weed-entwined, The vesper clock tolls mournful to the wind, Counts every wave-worn isle, and mountain hoar, From Kilda to the green lerne's shore ; So, when thy pure and renovated mind This perishable dust hath left behind, Thy seraph eye shall count the starry train, Like distant isles embosomed in the main ; Rapt to the shrine where motion first began, And light and life in mingling torrent ran : From whence each bright rotundity was hurled, The throne of God, the centre of the world! She 's at the window many an hour His coming to discover : And he looked up to Ellen's bower, And slie looked on her lover But ah! Ye fond adorers of departed fame, Who warm at Scipio's worth, or Tully's name! Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey The morning dream of life's eternal day Then, then, the triumph and the trance begin, And all the phrenix spirit burns within! This invitation, however, was withdrawn before it could be acted on, and so he returned to Edinburgh. We cover a wide variety of breaking news, municipal issues, human interest features and sports stories. A statue of Thomas Campbell stands in George Square, Glasgow.
The moon is up the watch-tower dimly burns And down the vale his sober step returns : But pauses oft, as winding rocks convey The still sweet fall of music far away ; And oft he lingers from his home awhile To watch the dying notes! Unknown, unhonored, was the friendless dead; For child to weep, or widow to deplore, There never came to his unburied head : All from his dreary habitation fled. Can sin, can death, your worlds obscure? Unscathed they left lona's strand, When the opal morn first flushed the sky. Think, if your hardened heart be conscience proof, To stab a stranger underneath your roof! The Trench Revolution, the partition of Poland, and the abolition of negro slavery, were then the reigning topics of the day, and the enthusiasm with which the poem was received, arose no doubt in part from the noble expres- sion which it gave to public feeling. And tranced in giddy horror Gertrude swooned ; Yet, while she clasps him lifeless to her zone, Say, burst they, borrowed from her fttther's wound, These drops? Where Time's far-wandering tide has never run, From your unfathomed shades, and viewless spheres. And see thee once again whom I too shortly saw I vm.
Hamilton, whose strawberries I had pilfered, that, in case of my father's death, and he was a very old man, she knew not what would become of. What though the bosom friends of Fate, Prosperity's unweaned brood, Thy consolations cannot rate, self-dependent solitude! Whose grandsire was my early life's compeer. Or thought I, in thy father's house, when thou Wert lightest-hearted on his festive floor, And first of all his hospitable door To meet and kiss me at my journey's end f But where was I when Waldegrave was no more? But this is not the drama's closing act! So hallowedly have ye fulfilled your part, My pride repudiates even the sigh that blends With Poland's name name written on my heart. Come to my close and clustering bower, Thou spirit of a milder clime, Fresh with the dews of fruit and flower, Of mountain heath, and moory thyme. Then would that home admit them happier far Than grandeur's most magnificent saloon, While, here and there, a solitary star Flushed in the darkening firmament of June ; And silence brought the soul-felt hour, full soon, Ineffable, which I may not portray; For never did the hymenean moon A paradise of hearts more sacred sway, In all that slept beneath her soft voluptuous ray. Junkins Birch to whom he was married for 56 years. What though his creed, a Babel structure, frow::cd In human pride, usurping Scripture ground, His preaching terrified the heart to scan Its faith, and stunned the reasoning powers of man ; Yet still the effect was awful, and the mind Was kindled by the flash it left behind.
Who that has melted o'er his lay To Mary's soul, in Heaven above, But pictured sees, in fancy strong, The landscape and the livelong day That smiled upon their mutual love? When all was hushed at even tide, I heard the baying of their beagle : Be hushed! I blame myself, and ne'er shall cease to blame. Leave not out sires to stem the unequal fight, Whose limbs are nerved no more with buoyant might ; Nor, lagging backward, let the younger breast Permit the man of age a sight unblessed To welter in the combat's foremost thrust, His hoary head dishevelled in the dust, And venerable bosom bleeding bare. Where Love was fostered could not Pity dwell? Let the world revere us For our people's rights and laws, And the breasts of civic heroes Bared in Freedom's holy cause. Lo, nature, life, and liberty relume The dim-eyed tenant of, the dungeon gloom, A long-lost friend, or hapless child restored, Smiles at its blazing hearth and social board ; Warm from his heart the tears of rapture flow, And virtue triumphs o'er remembered woe. Has earth a clod Its Maker meant not should be trod By man, the image of his God, Erect and free, Unscourged by Superstition's rod To bow the knee? Now the last laugh of agony is o'er, And pale in blood he sleeps, to wake no more! She still was living when the page set out From home, but whether now was left in doubt.
And, mark the wretch, whose wanderings never knew The world's regard, that soothes, though half un- true j Whose erring heart the lash of sorrow bore, But found not pity when it erred no more. Around thy savage hills of oak, Around thy waters bright and blue, No hunter's horn the silence broke, No dying shriek thine echo knew j But safe, sweet Eldurn woods, to you The wounded wild deer ever ran, x Whose myrtle bound their grassy cavcj Whose very rocks a shelter gave From blood-pursuing man. Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder rolled, And that were true which Nature never told, Let Wisdom smile not en her conquered field 5 No rapture dawns, no treasure is revealed! Dishevelled are her raven locks ; On Connocht Moran's name she calls ; And oft amidst the lonely rocks She sings sweet madrigals. On, ye brave, Who rush to or the grave! Where now shall I go, poor, forsaken, and blind? A bolt that overhung our dome Suspended till my curse was given, Soon as it passed these lips of foam, Pealed in the blood-red heaven. Stunned with the cries of death each gentle gale And bathed in blood the verdure of the vale! After distinguishing himself at the grammar school of Glasgow by a precocious talent for versification, which he employed even then most happily in metrical translations from the classic poets, Campbell entered the university of that city at the age of fourteen. Thy temples,—creeds themselves grow wan! They saw a late bombarded town, Its streets still warm with blood ran down Still smoked each burning rafter ; And hideously, ; midst rape and sack, The murderer's laughter answered back His prey's convulsive laughter. You friendless man, at whose dejected eye Th' unfeeling proud one looks and passes by, Condemned on Penury's barren path to roam, Scorned by the world, and left without a home Even he, at evening, should he chance to stray Down by the hamlet's hawthorn-scented way, Where, round the cot's romantic glade, are seen The blossomed bean-field, and the sloping green, Leans o'er its humble gate, and thinks the while Oh! And breathless with uplifted hands outspread Burst into tears upon his neck, and said, 'I knew that those who brought your message laughed, With poison of then: own to point the shaft ; And this my one kind sister thought, yet loth Confessed she feared 'twas true you had beem wroth.
The press's magic letters, That blessing ye brought forth, Behold! Only a change of worlds. Say, even his serfs, half-humanized, should learn Their human rights, will Mars put out his flame In Russian bosoms? Ye orient realms, where Ganges' waters run! Thick as dew-drops bespangling the grass Shine our arms o'er the field of renown ; And the sun looks on thousands, alas! Calling hours at the Pickering and Son Westborough Funeral Home, 62 West Main St. Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree! Above, below, in Ocean, Earth, and Sky. The testimonies of historians and travellers concur in describing tiie infant colony as one of the happiest spots of human existence, for the hospita- ble and innocent manners of the inhabitants, the beauty of the country, and the luxuriant fertility of the soil and climate. And in the buskined hunters cf the deer. Then came of every race the mingled swarm, Far rung the groves and gleamed the midnight grass, With flambeau, javelin, and naked arm ; As warriors wheeled their culverins of brass, Sprung from the woods, a bold athletic mass, Whom virtue fires, and liberty combines : And first the wild Moravian yagers pass, His plumed host the dark Iberian joins And Scotia's sword beneath the Highland thistle shines.