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answer appear arms band battle bear blood Boards bold bound brand brave brow called cause chief Chieftain claim clan close Cross dark death deep deer Douglas drew Ellen Engravings fair fear fire gave give given glance glen grace green grey guard hand harp head hear heard heart held Highland hill hold isle James John kind King LADY lake land late light live look Lord lost maid marked meaning Minstrel morning mountain night noble Note o'er once pass person POEM race rest Robin Hood rock Roderick round Scotland Scottish seemed seen side soon sought sound speed stand stood stranger sword tear tell thee thine thou thought tide till took turned Volumes wave wild wood young
Side 5 - The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade...
Side 118 - 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 202 - Have, then, thy wish !" — He whistled shrill, And he was answered from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose Bonnets and spears and bended bows; On right, on left, above, below, Sprung up at once the lurking foe...
Side 209 - Fate, by prophet bred Between the living and the dead: 'Who spills the foremost foeman's life, His party- conquers in the strife.'" — "Then, by my word," the Saxon said, "The riddle is already read. Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, Then yield to Fate, and not to me.
Side 209 - And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred Between the living and the dead: 'Who spills the foremost foeman's life, His party- conquers in the strife.
Side 210 - Who ill deserved my courteous' care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair.' 'I thank thee, Roderick, for the word! It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone!
Side 211 - I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. Now, truce, farewell ! and ruth, begone ! — Yet think not that by thee alone, Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds against thee cast. But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — We try this quarrel hilt...
Side 289 - HARP of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, With distant echo from the fold and lea, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee.
Side 18 - Down to the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, The fragments of an earlier world ; A wildering forest feathered o'er His ruined sides and summit hoar, While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.