The Lady of the LakeAmerican Book Company, 1904 - 250 sidor |
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Vanliga ord och fraser
Allan Alpine's aught band battle Beltane Benvenue blade blood bold brand brave breast broadsword brow Canto castle chase chief chieftain clan Clan-Alpine's copse couch crest Cross dark deep deer Douglas dread dream drew Ellen fair fear Fiery Cross Fitz-James flung Gael gallant glance glen grace grey guard hand harp hear heard heart heath heaven HENRY VAN DYKE Highland hill honoured hounds isle knight Lady lake Loch Achray Loch Katrine Loch Lomond Loch Voil lone look lord loud maid maiden Malcolm Græme Malise merry minstrel morning mountain ne'er noble o'er pass paused pibroch plaid poem pride river Teith rock Roderick Dhu Saxon Scotland Scott shallop side sire smiled snood song sought sound spear speed stag steed Stirling stood strain stranger strife sword tartans tear thee thine thou tide Trosachs twas Vennachar wake warrior wave wild wind yonder
Populära avsnitt
Sida 48 - 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. High on the south, huge Benvenue Down to the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, The fragments of an earlier world...
Sida 175 - Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.
Sida 103 - The mountain-shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest ; In bright uncertainty they lie, Like future joys to Fancy's eye.
Sida 123 - The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken curtain for my head, My lullaby the warder's tread, Far, far, from love and thee, Mary; To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, My couch may be my bloody plaid, My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid! It will not waken me, Mary!
Sida 52 - And seldom was a snood amid Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, Whose glossy black to shame might bring The plumage of the raven's wing; And seldom o'er a breast so fair Mantled a plaid with modest care; And never brooch the folds combined Above a heart more good and kind...
Sida 180 - 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 to hilt.
Sida 83 - Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; Menteith and Breadalbane, then, Echo his praise agen, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
Sida 62 - Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more: Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Sida 51 - E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue, Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The listener held his breath to hear.
Sida 63 - Sleep! the deer is in his den; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying: Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye Here no bugles sound reveille.