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Updated: June 17, 2025
'O Larghan Clanbrassil, how sweet is thy sound, To my tender remembrance as Love's sacred ground; For there Marg'ret Caroline first charm'd my sight, And fill'd my young heart with a flutt'ring delight.
Disgusted with my thoughts of war and wounds. 'Twas then, by sudden chance, I met thine eyes, What saw I there? A light from heaven above, A gleam of calm, self-sacrificing love, A smile that fill'd my heart with glad surprise, Reflected in my breast an answering glow, And haunts me still, wherever I may go. By JAMES H. STARK.
If Virtue, if Art, if Nobility of Blood, could any way have influenc'd the Tyrant Death, who could boast a greater Soul! Who exceed him in the Mysteries of his Art! Or lastly, Whose Veins were fill'd with a more noble Blood! Here he repeated his Genealogy, which spoke him descended from a Number of Sovereign Princes, Grandees, Caja's, &c.
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed With variable complexions; all agreeing In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throng, and puff To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames Commit the war of white and damask, in Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother, As if that whatsoever god, who leads him, Were slyly crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture.
She was a Catholic, too, sincere, austere, As far as her own gentle heart allow'd, And deem'd that fallen worship far more dear, Perhaps, because 'twas fallen: her sires were proud Of deeds and days, when they had fill'd the ear Of nations, and had never bent or bow'd To novel power; and, as she was the last, She held her old faith and old feelings fast.
Let me revert to my memorandum book, Camden, New Jersey, that year, fill'd with addresses, receipts, purchases, &c., of the two volumes pub'd then by myself the "Leaves," and the "Two Rivulets" some home customers, for them, but mostly from the British Islands.
Before these fields were shorn and till'd, Full to the brim our rivers flow'd; The melody of waters fill'd The fresh and boundless wood; And torrents dash'd, and rivulets play'd, And fountains spouted in the shade. It is generally known that the waters which flow into the southern side of Ontario are, in general, narrow, sluggish, and deep.
All flowers the Sun now with his beams discloses, Except the double pinks and matchless Roses. Now swarms the busy, witty, honey-Bee, Whose praise deserves a page from more than me The cleanly Huswife's Dary's now in th' prime, Her shelves and firkins fill'd for winter time.
I lock'd the door after me, and slip'd the key into my pocket as I sprang up the stairs beyond. But here a light was shining, so once more I extinguish'd my lantern. The steps ended in a long passage, with a handsome lamp hanging at the uttermost end, and beneath this lamp I stepp'd into a place that fill'd me with astonishment. 'Twas, I could not doubt, the entrance hall of the governor's house.
Oh shining angels! what, must we With you lift up our voice? We must; and with you ever be, And with you must rejoice. 69. Our friends that lived godly here, Shall there be found again; The wife, the child, and father dear, With others of our train. 70. Each one down to the foot in white, Fill'd to the brim with grace, Walking among the saints in light, With glad and joyful face. 71.
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