The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With memoir and critical dissertation, Bind 3

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Side 274 - 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 180 - When it raineth, it is his penthouse; when it bloweth, it is his tent; when it freezeth, it is his tabernacle. In summer he can wear it loose; in winter he can wrap it close; at all times he can use it; never heavy, never cumbersome.
Side 303 - O ! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant ! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken...
Side 70 - The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side. The mere for his net and the land for his game, The chase for the wild and the park for the tame: Yet the fish of the lake and the deer of the vale Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allen-a-Dale!
Side 69 - Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winning. Come, read me my riddle! come, hearken my tale! And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side.
Side 80 - The tear down childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dewdrop on the rose ; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Side 97 - The sultry summer day is done. The western hills have hid the sun, But mountain peak and village spire Retain reflection of his fire.
Side 174 - It was a' for our rightful king That we left fair Scotland's strand, It was a' for our rightful king That we e'er saw Irish land, My dear ! That we e'er saw Irish land. Now all is done that man can do, And all is done in vain ! My love ! my native land adieu ! For I must cross the main, My dear, For I must cross the main.
Side 172 - Thus, in process of time, they have all displeased her, and she hath wished evil luck unto them all ; perhaps with curses and imprecations made in form. Doubtless (at length) some of her...
Side 108 - Erin's crest be seen The flower she loves of emerald green — But, Lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree.

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