Speeches and poems Volume . 2; with the report and notes on the Indian penal code
Book Details
Author(s)Baron Thomas Babington Macaulay
PublisherRareBooksClub.com
ISBN / ASIN1231011289
ISBN-139781231011287
AvailabilityUsually ships in 24 hours
Sales Rank99,999,999
MarketplaceUnited States 🇺🇸
Description
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1886 Excerpt: ... divine The city of his favoured line. The caves, the woods, the rocks, repeat the sound The everlasting hills roll the long echoes round. But, if Thy rescued church may dare Still to beseige Thy throne with prayer, Sheathe not, we implore Thee, Lord, Sheathe not Thy victorious sword. Still Panonia pines away, Vassal of a double sway: Still Thy servants groan in chains, Still the race which hates Thee reigns: Part the living from the dead: Join the members to the head: Snatch Thine own sheep from yon fell monster's hold t Let one kind shepherd rule one undivided fold. He is the victor, only he Who reaps the fruits of victory. We conquered once in vain, When foamed the Ionian waves with gore, And heaped Lepanto's stormy shore With wrecks and Moslem slain. Yet wretched Cyprus never broke The Syrian tyrant's iron yoke. Shall the twice vanquished foe Again repeat his blow? Shall Europe's sword be hung to rust in peace? No--let the red-cross ranks Of the triumphant Franks Bear swift deliverance to the shrines of Greece, And in her inmost heart let Asia feel The avenging plagues of Western fire and steeL O God! for one short moment raise The veil which hides those glorious days. The flying foes I see Thee urge Even to the river's headlong verge. Close on their rear the loud uproar 'Of fierce pursuit from Ister's shore Comes pealing on the wind; The Riib's wild waters are before, The Christian sword behind. Sons of perdition, speed your flight. No earthly spear is in the rest; No earthly champion leads to fight The warriors of the West. The Lord of Hosts asserts His old renown, Scatters, and smites, and slays, and tramples down. Fast, fast, beyond what mortal tongue can say, Or mortal fancy dream, He rushes on his prey: Till, with the terrors of the wondrous theme...







