The Lord of the IslesCambridge University Press, 1914 - 245 sider |
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Abbot Allaster ancient archers Argentine Argyleshire arms army Arran Artornish Bannockburn Barbour bark battle battle of Bannockburn battle of Dalry battle of Methven bear beneath bold brave brother brow called Canto Carrick castle chieftain coast command Comyn crown dark death deep Douglas Earl Edith Edward Bruce England fair fear fell fierce fight followers glance ground hand hath heart Heaven Highland hill Isabel island Isle of Arran Isles King Robert knight lake land Latin Liege light Loch Loch Etive Lord Ronald's Lorn Lorn's Maid of Lorn minstrel monarch monks mountain Nigel Bruce noble o'er Old English Old French poem Randolph Robert Bruce rock Ronald rude sail Saint Scotland Scott Scottish seem'd shore Skye slain spear Stirling stranger strife subst sword tell thee thine thou tide tower Turnberry Turnberry Castle verb wake warriors wave wild wind
Populære passager
Side 179 - Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful ; and the end of that mirth is heaviness.
Side 61 - 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, bare crags, and banks of stone...
Side xiii - Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms ; Of patriot battles, won of old By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold ; Of later fields of feud and fight, When, pouring from their Highland height, The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Had swept the scarlet ranks away.
Side 87 - 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 ! XII.
Side 85 - 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 prolong'd and high, That mocks the organ's melody.
Side 60 - Hath rent a strange and shatter'd way 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...
Side 60 - I've wander'd o'er, Clombe many a crag, cross'd many a moor, But, by my halidome, A scene so rude, so wild as this, Yet so sublime in barrenness, Ne'er did my wandering footsteps press, Where'er I happ'd to roam.
Side xiv - The summer day sped onward so fast, that notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was still found entranced in my intellectual banquet. To read and to remember was in this instance the same thing, and henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows, and all who would hearken to me, with tragical recitations from the ballads of Bishop Percy.
Side xiv - My mother had good natural taste and great feeling : she used to make me pause upon those passages which expressed generous and worthy sentiments, and if she could not divert me from those which were descriptive of battle and tumult, she contrived at least to divide my attention between them. My own enthusiasm, however, was chiefly awakened by the wonderful and the terrible — the common taste of children, but in which I have remained a child even unto this day.