Poetik W. Scott's in seiner Lady of the lake: mit hinweisen auf Byron's Siege of Corinth und Burns' poems ...

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C. Kober, 1899 - 67 sider
 

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Side 60 - Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. To him each lady's look was lent, On him each courtier's eye was bent, Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The centre of the glittering ring, — And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King! As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay; No word her choking voice commands : She showed the ring, she clasped her hands.
Side 63 - And locked his arms his foeman round. Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through bars of brass and triple steel...
Side 47 - Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.
Side 63 - But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and for ever ! XVII.
Side 62 - Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream ; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood.
Side 13 - A hundred voices joined the shout ; With hark and whoop and wild halloo, No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. Far from the tumult fled the roe, Close in her covert cowered the doe, The falcon from her cairn on high. Cast on the rout a wondering eye. Till far beyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failing din...
Side 13 - Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance That on the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance The sun's retiring beams...
Side 47 - And thus an airy point he won. Where, gleaming with the setting sun, One burnished sheet of living gold, Loch- Katrine lay beneath him rolled ; In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light ; And mountains, that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land.
Side 59 - Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Nor lacked they many a banner fair; For, from their shivered brows displayed, Far o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen, The brier-rose fell in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs.
Side 61 - Bearing before them in their course The relics of the archer force, Like wave with crest of sparkling foam. Right onward did Clan Alpine come. Above the tide, each broadsword bright Was brandishing like beam of light. Each targe was dark below ; And with the ocean's mighty swing, When heaving to the tempest's wing, They hurled them on the foe.

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