The poetical works of sir Walter Scott, Bind 9

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Side 97 - 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 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...
Side 196 - Beyond the shadow of the ship I watched the water-snakes ; They moved in tracks of shining white ; And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire — Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam ; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
Side 140 - In varied tone prolong'd and high, That mocks the organ's melody. Nor doth its entrance front in vain To old lona's holy fane, That Nature's voice might seem to say, " Well hast thou done, frail Child of clay ! Thy humble powers that stately shrine Task'd high and hard — but witness mine!
Side 140 - 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. Nor doth its entrance front in vain To old lona's holy fane, That Nature's voice might seem to say, " Well hast thou done, frail Child of clay ! Thy humble...
Side 205 - Whatever is imaged in the wildest tale, if giants, dragons, and enchantment be excepted, would be felt by him, who, wandering in the mountains without a guide, or upon the sea without a pilot, should be carried, amidst his terror and uncertainty, to the hospitality and elegance of Raasay or Dunvegan.
Side 139 - 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 96 - 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.

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