Ida, Or, The Last Struggles of the Welsh for Independence

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Whittaker, 1858 - 411 pages
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Page 78 - They never fail who die In a great cause : the block may soak their gore ; Their heads may sodden in the sun ; their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls — But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Which overpower all others, and conduct The world at last to freedom.
Page 193 - To scorn to be for benefits forborne ; To scorn to lie, to scorn to do a wrong. To scorn to bear an injury in mind ; To scorn a freeborn heart slave-like to bind. But if for wrongs we needs revenge must have, Then be our vengeance of the noblest kind ; Do we his body from our fury save, And let our hate prevail against our mind...
Page 90 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness: And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts; and choking sighs, Which ne'er might be repeated...
Page 315 - FROM life without freedom, oh, who would not fly ? For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die?
Page 1 - Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume ; And we are weeds without it. All constraint, Except what wisdom lays on evil men, Is evil ; hurts the faculties, impedes Their progress in the road of science ; blinds The eyesight of Discovery ; and begets, In those that suffer it, a sordid mind Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit To be the tenant of man's noble form.
Page 78 - We must forget all feelings save the one — We must resign all passions save our purpose — We must behold no object save our country ~ And only look on death as beautiful, So that the sacrifice ascend to heaven, And draw down freedom on her evermore.
Page 216 - A thought, and claims the homage of a tear; A flashing pang ! of which the weary breast Would still, albeit in vain, the heavy heart divest.
Page 205 - Wilt thou weep like a mourner o'er all thou lovest now; When thy hopes, like spent arrows, fall short of their mark; Or, like meteors at midnight, make darkness more dark; When thy feelings lie...
Page 354 - The sword which had defied The mightiest, lay broken near ; And yet no sign or sound of fear Came from that lip of pride ; And never king or conqueror's brow Wore higher look than his did now.
Page 340 - LOOKED upon his brow, — no sign Of guilt or fear was there ; He stood as proud by that death-shrine As even o'er Despair He had a power ; in his eye There was a quenchless energy, A spirit that could dare The deadliest form that Death could take. And dare it for the daring's sake.

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