The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. in Twelve Volumes: With All His Introductions and Notes, Various Readings and the Editor's NotesRobert Cadell, 1848 - 823 sidor |
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Sida 69
... morning rose , But I stood by his bed ere evening close . The words may not again be said , That he spoke to me , on death - bed laid ; They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave , And pile it in heaps above his grave . XV . " I swore to ...
... morning rose , But I stood by his bed ere evening close . The words may not again be said , That he spoke to me , on death - bed laid ; They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave , And pile it in heaps above his grave . XV . " I swore to ...
Sida 73
... morning wind , And strove his hardihood to find : He was glad when he pass'd the tombstones grey , Which girdle round the fair Abbaye ; For the mystic Book , to his bosom prest , Felt like a load upon his breast ; And his joints , with ...
... morning wind , And strove his hardihood to find : He was glad when he pass'd the tombstones grey , Which girdle round the fair Abbaye ; For the mystic Book , to his bosom prest , Felt like a load upon his breast ; And his joints , with ...
Sida 79
... morning's scene , Rode eastward through the hawthorns green . E WHILE thus he pour'd the lengthen❜d tale , The Minstrel's voice began to fail : Full slyly smiled the observant page , And gave the wither'd hand of age A goblet , crown'd ...
... morning's scene , Rode eastward through the hawthorns green . E WHILE thus he pour'd the lengthen❜d tale , The Minstrel's voice began to fail : Full slyly smiled the observant page , And gave the wither'd hand of age A goblet , crown'd ...
Sida 108
... morning ; well they knew , In vain he never twang'd the yew . Right sharp has been the evening shower , That drove him from his Liddel tower ; And , by my faith , " the gate - ward said , 66 " I think ' twill prove a Warden - Raid . " 1 ...
... morning ; well they knew , In vain he never twang'd the yew . Right sharp has been the evening shower , That drove him from his Liddel tower ; And , by my faith , " the gate - ward said , 66 " I think ' twill prove a Warden - Raid . " 1 ...
Sida 112
... morning fight ; Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms , In youth , might tame his rage for arms ; And still , in age , he spurn'd at rest , And still his brows the helmet press'd , Albeit the blanched locks below Were white as Dinlay's ...
... morning fight ; Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms , In youth , might tame his rage for arms ; And still , in age , he spurn'd at rest , And still his brows the helmet press'd , Albeit the blanched locks below Were white as Dinlay's ...
Vanliga ord och fraser
agen ancient Angus Appendix arms band bard battle beneath blood blood-hound bold Border bower brand Brantome brave breast bright broadsword brow CANTO castle chief Chieftain clan courser crest Dame dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread e'er Earl Earl of Angus Ettrick Forest fair falchion fear fell fire Flodden gallant glance glen grace Græme grey hall hand harp hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland hill holy James King King Arthur King's knight Lady Ladye lake lance land Liddesdale light Lindisfarne Loch Katrine lone Lord Marmion loud maid maiden mark'd merry Minstrel morning mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pass'd pride rock Roderick rose round rude Saint Saint Hilda Saxon scarce Scotland Scottish seem'd show'd sire song sought sound spear steed stood sword tale Tantallon thee thine thou tide tower Twas warrior wave ween wild
Populära avsnitt
Sida 216 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, " 'Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Sida 35 - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy.
Sida 117 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Sida 50 - Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, 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 162 - Land of my sires ! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand ! Still, as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill. By Yarrow's stream still let me stray, Though none should guide my feeble way ; Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break, Although it chill my withered cheek ; Still lay my head...
Sida 215 - Eske river where ford there was none : But ere he alighted at Netherby gate The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Sida 296 - ... snow, Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, Unbroken was the ring; The stubborn spearmen still made good Their dark impenetrable wood, Each stepping where his comrade stood, The instant that he fell. No thought was there of dastard flight; Link'd in the serried phalanx tight, Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, As fearlessly and well; Till utter darkness closed her wing O'er their thin host and wounded king.
Sida 22 - 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...
Sida 77 - Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, While every Highland glen Sends our shout back agen, " Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe...
Sida 275 - Lord Marmion turned — well was his need — And dashed the rowels in his steed, Like arrow through the archway sprung, The ponderous grate behind him rung; To pass there was such scanty room, The bars descending razed his plume.