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The Retired Lieutenant, and the Battle of Loncarty, Poems. [followed By] Specimens of a Versification of Ossian
The Retired Lieutenant and the Battle of Loncarty Poems Specimens of a Versification of Ossian - followed By Author:John Lake General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1836 Subjects: Poetry / English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.co... more »m where you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: THE BATTLE OF LONCARTY INDUCTION. Seek ye that spot on Albion's isle Where foreign sword or foreign guile Could never yet prevail ? Where lived the race that, unsubdued, Invasion's ruthless bands withstood, And ne'er, till spent in civil feud, Before the alien fell ? Seek ye that spot to shed a tear Upon the Patriot's grave ? Warms it your heart the song to hear, That celebrates the brave ? Love ye, when patriot pride inspires Your bosoms, from the immortal fires Of the wild valour of your sires The burning brand to steal ? Look back to Scotland in her day, And trace the banks of famous Tay : There on a time eventful lay The action of my tale. They were achievements, when they passed, That struck a wondering age aghast; And are, though ages since have rolled, Still proudly to the stranger told, Who seeks the scene where yet, between The woods that skirt Kinnoul, are seen Remains of names which seem to say No time shall waste their fame away, Till from oblivion the lay Their patriot virtues shield; From story trite, and legend tame, Till Poesy snatch th' immortal theme; And give the brave the fame of song In strains that to their worth belong, And deathless glory yield To the Three Shields, in peril's day Who stoutly stood their Country's stay In Loncarty's dread field. Such is, in lack of prouder name To gild the song, the Muse's theme. Bard of the hills! whose strains of fire Have rapt to heaven the Celtic lyre, Pass, in your mists, her harp along, And raise her strains and swell her s...« less