The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With memoir of the authorT. Nelson and Sons, 1877 - 612 sider |
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ancient Argentine arms bade band banner battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright brow Bruce castle Chieftain clan courser crest Dæmon dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread drew Earl Edinburgh Annual Ettricke Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fierce fight gallant glance glen grace grey Grey Brother hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy honoured isle King knight lady lake land light lonely look Lord Marmion Lorn loud maid minstrel monarch Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pale pride Redmond Risingham Roderick Rokeby's Ronald round rung Saint Saint Hilda Saxon scarce Scotland Scottish shore shout sire song sought soul sound spear spoke steed stern stood strife sword tale tell thee thine thou tide toil tower train Twas twixt wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid wind youth
Populære passager
Side 56 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ! — If such there breathe, go, mark him well...
Side 154 - I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
Side 12 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory...
Side 1 - Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of, Border chivalry; For, well-a-day!
Side 240 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Side 367 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My love ! No more of me you knew. " This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain ;* But she shall bloom in winter snow, Ere we two meet again.
Side 68 - That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day...
Side 49 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Side 15 - The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand 'Twixt poplars straight the ozier wand, In many a freakish knot had twined ; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
Side 188 - Spears shook, and falchions flashed amain ; Fell England's arrow-flight like rain; Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again, Wild and disorderly. Amid the scene of tumult, high They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly: And stainless Tunstall's banner white, And Edmund Howard's lion bright...