The lord of the Isles. With notes and analytical and explanatory index, Oplag 374

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John Ross, 1871 - 200 sider
 

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Side 91 - STRANGER ! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced The northern realms of ancient Caledon, Where the proud Queen of Wilderness hath placed, By lake and cataract, her lonely throne ; Sublime but sad delight thy soul hath known, Gazing on pathless glen and mountain high, Listing where from the cliffs the torrents thrown Mingle their echoes with the eagle's cry, And with the sounding lake, and with the moaning sky.
Side 101 - Scarba's isle, whose tortured shore Still rings to Corrievreken's roar, And lonely Colonsay ; — Scenes sung by him who sings no more ! ° His bright and brief career is o'er, And mute his tuneful strains; Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, That loved the light of song to pour; — A distant and a deadly shore Has LEYDEN'S cold remains ! 12 Ever the breeze blows merrily, But the galley ploughs no more the sea.
Side 99 - Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea. The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, And Ulva dark, and Colonsay, And all the group of islets gay That guard famed Staffa round.
Side 100 - Where, as to shame the temples deck'd By skill of earthly architect, Nature herself, it seem'd, would raise A Minster to her Maker's praise ! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still, between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, In varied tone prolonged and high, That mocks the organ's melody.
Side 168 - But, swerving from the Knight's career, Just as they met, Bruce shunn'd the spear. Onward the baffled warrior bore His course — but soon his course was o'er ! — High in his stirrups stood the King, And gave his battle-axe the swing. Right on De Boune, the whiles he...
Side 71 - Through the rude bosom of the hill, And that each naked precipice, Sable ravine, and dark abyss, Tells of the outrage still. The wildest glen, but this, can show Some touch of Nature's genial glow ; On high Benmore green mosses grow, And heath-bells bud in deep Glencroe, And copse on Cruchan-Ben; But here, — above, around, below, On mountain or in glen Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown, Black waves,...
Side 167 - As motionless as rocks, that bide The wrath of the advancing tide, The Bruce stood fast. Each breast beat high, And dazzled was each gazing eye. The heart had hardly time to think, The eyelid scarce had time to wink, While on the King, like flash of flame, Spurr'd to full speed the...
Side 138 - tis the Changeling) gave — " Dost thou not rest thee on my arm ? Do not my plaid-folds hold thee warm ? Hath not the wild bull's treble hide This targe for thee and me supplied ? Is not Clan-Colla's sword of steel ? And, trembler, canst thou terror feel ? Cheer thee, and still that throbbing heart ; From Ronald's guard thou shalt not part." — — O ! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant...

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