Poetical Works of Sir Walter ScottMacmillan, 1884 - 559 sidor |
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Sida 17
... fair , And every gentle lady there , Each after each , in due degree , Gave praises to his melody ; His hand was true , his voice was clear , And much they longed the rest to hear , Encouraged thus , the Aged Man , After meet rest ...
... fair , And every gentle lady there , Each after each , in due degree , Gave praises to his melody ; His hand was true , his voice was clear , And much they longed the rest to hear , Encouraged thus , the Aged Man , After meet rest ...
Sida 18
... fair . The Monk gazed long on the lovely moon , Then into the night he looked forth ; And red and bright the streamers light Were dancing in the glowing north . So had he seen , in fair Castile , The youth in glittering squadrons start ...
... fair . The Monk gazed long on the lovely moon , Then into the night he looked forth ; And red and bright the streamers light Were dancing in the glowing north . So had he seen , in fair Castile , The youth in glittering squadrons start ...
Sida 21
... fair Margaret so early awake , And don her kirtle so hastilie ; And the silken knots , which in hurry she would make , Why tremble her slender fingers to tie ; Why does she stop , and look often around , As she glides down the secret ...
... fair Margaret so early awake , And don her kirtle so hastilie ; And the silken knots , which in hurry she would make , Why tremble her slender fingers to tie ; Why does she stop , and look often around , As she glides down the secret ...
Sida 26
... fair boy ! My mind was never set so high ; But if thou art chief of such a clan , And art the son of such a man , And ever comest to thy command , Our wardens had need to keep good order ; My bow of yew to a hazel wand , Thou'lt make ...
... fair boy ! My mind was never set so high ; But if thou art chief of such a clan , And art the son of such a man , And ever comest to thy command , Our wardens had need to keep good order ; My bow of yew to a hazel wand , Thou'lt make ...
Sida 29
... fair St Mary's silver wave , From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height , His ready lances Thirlestane brave Array'd beneath a banner bright . The tressured fleur - de - luce he claims , To wreathe his shield , since royal James , Encamp'd ...
... fair St Mary's silver wave , From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height , His ready lances Thirlestane brave Array'd beneath a banner bright . The tressured fleur - de - luce he claims , To wreathe his shield , since royal James , Encamp'd ...
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Abbotsford ancient arms band banner battle beneath blood blood-hound bold bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright broadsword brow Bruce castle clan courser dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread Earl English Ettrick Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fierce fight fire gallant gave glance glen grace grey hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland hill holy isle King King Arthur knight lady lake land Liddesdale light Loch Katrine lone Lord Marmion loud maid maiden mark'd Marmion minstrel morning Mortham Moss-troopers mountain ne'er noble o'er pale pass'd pibroch poem pride Risingham rock Roderick Rokeby round rude Saint Saxon scene Scotland Scott Scottish seem'd show'd silvan sire song sought sound spear steed stern stood sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower turn'd Twas wake warrior wave ween wild wind
Populära avsnitt
Sida 103 - 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 42 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well ; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly...
Sida 104 - One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
Sida 17 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower ; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory...
Sida 146 - And near, and nearer as they row'd, Distinct the martial ditty flow'd. XIX. Dont Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine ! 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 457 - Proud Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, Singing so rarely. " 'Tell me, thou bonny bird, When shall I marry me?' 'When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye.' * * * " 'Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?' 'The gray-headed sexton That delves the grave duly.' * * * "The glow-worm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady.
Sida 478 - Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain gray, Springlets in the dawn are steaming, Diamonds on the brake are gleaming, And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green ; Now we come to chant our lay
Sida 42 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires ! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial baud, That knits me to thy rugged strand...
Sida 123 - Leave Marmion here alone — to die." They parted, and alone he lay ; Clare drew her from the sight away, Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, And half he murmur'd, — " Is there none, Of all my halls have nurst, Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring Of blessed water from the spring, To slake my dying thirst !
Sida 301 - But here, — above, around, below, On mountain or in glen, Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power. The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown, Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone, As if were here denied The summer sun, the spring's sweet dew, That clothe with many a varied hue The bleakest mountain-side.