Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face,... When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go:LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Without, the frost, the blinding snow, The storm-wind's moody madness--... Within, the firelight's ruddy glow, And childhood's nest of gladness. The magic words shall hold thee fast: Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all the forces of the Crown. It may be frail--its roof may shake--the wind may ...blow through it--the storm may enter--the rain may enter--but the King of England cannot enter!--all his forces dare not cross the threshold of the ruined tenement!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
But misery still delights to trace Its 'semblance in another's case....
No voice divine the storm allay'd, No light propitious shone; When, snatch'd from all effectual aid, We perish'd, each alone: But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulphs than he.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »