88 Quotes by Thomas Campbell

The prophet’s mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world – a sacred gift to man.

Who hath not own’d, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name.

But sad as angels for the good man’s sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you’re doing In my cheek’s pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing; Wed or cease to woo.

Triumphal arch, that fill’st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.

What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.

Better be courted and jilted Than never be courted at all.

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!

On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I, No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.