Thomas Campbell,
The Elocutionist
(November 2020)
“ The combat deepens—On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry— Few, few shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their winding sheet ”
Thomas Campbell,
The Elocutionist
(1840-1850)
“ Then a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn 'Twas the youth that had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn. "I dreamed of my lady. I dreamed of her grief, I dreamed that her lord was a barbarous chief; On a rock of the ocean, fair Ellen did seem; Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!" In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground, And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found; From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn! ”
Thomas Campbell,
The Elocutionist
(November 2020)
“ Be hushed, my Connocht, Moran cried, 'Tis but the screaming of the eagle— Alas; 'twas not eyrie's sound Their bloody hands had traced us out: Up-listering starts our couchant hound— And, hark; the nearer shout Brings faster on the murderers. ”
