 To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left...  Hoekzema's Gleanings from English Poetry - Side 152af David Hoekzema - 1893 - 334 siderFuld visning - Om denne bog
 | 1949 - 2076 sider
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[ Denne sides indhold er desværre begrænset. ] | |
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[ Denne sides indhold er desværre begrænset. ] | |
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