The Complete Poetical Works of Sir Walter ScottThomas Y. Crowell, 1894 - 770 páginas |
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Página xx
... spoke with warmth of " ' the mysterious yet certain hope that he should see her in a better world . " source . " " Grief , " he wrote , " makes me a housekeeper , and to labor is my only re- Yet he had written a year or two earlier in ...
... spoke with warmth of " ' the mysterious yet certain hope that he should see her in a better world . " source . " " Grief , " he wrote , " makes me a housekeeper , and to labor is my only re- Yet he had written a year or two earlier in ...
Página 12
... spoke , And he call'd on the Spirit of the Fell . XV . RIVER SPIRIT . ' Sleep'st thou , brother ? " MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . - " Brother , nay - On my hills the moon - beams play . From Craik - cross to Skelfhill - pen , By every rill , in ...
... spoke , And he call'd on the Spirit of the Fell . XV . RIVER SPIRIT . ' Sleep'st thou , brother ? " MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . - " Brother , nay - On my hills the moon - beams play . From Craik - cross to Skelfhill - pen , By every rill , in ...
Página 15
... spoke of former days , And how old age , and wand'ring long , Had done his hand and harp some wrong . The Duchess , and her daughters fair , And every gentle lady there , Each after each , in due degree , Gave praises to his melody ...
... spoke of former days , And how old age , and wand'ring long , Had done his hand and harp some wrong . The Duchess , and her daughters fair , And every gentle lady there , Each after each , in due degree , Gave praises to his melody ...
Página 16
... spoke the Monk , in solemn tone : " I was not always a man of woe ; For Paynim countries I have trod , And fought beneath the Cross of God : Now , strange to my eyes thine arms ap- pear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear ...
... spoke the Monk , in solemn tone : " I was not always a man of woe ; For Paynim countries I have trod , And fought beneath the Cross of God : Now , strange to my eyes thine arms ap- pear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear ...
Página 17
... spoke to me , on death - bed laid ; They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave , And pile it in heaps above his grave . " 6 XV . I swore to bury his Mighty Book , That never mortal might therein look ; And never to tell where it was hid ...
... spoke to me , on death - bed laid ; They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave , And pile it in heaps above his grave . " 6 XV . I swore to bury his Mighty Book , That never mortal might therein look ; And never to tell where it was hid ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Abbess ancient arms band battle beneath blood blood-hound bold Border bower brand Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave breast bright broadsword brow CANTO castle Chief clan Clare courser crest Dame dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread e'er Ellen Eskdale Ettrick Forest fair falchion fear fell Fitz-Eustace gallant glance glen grace Græme gray hall hand harp hast hear heard heart heaven hill holy King knight Lady Ladye lake lance land Liddesdale Lindisfarne Loch Katrine lonely look'd Lord Marmion loud maid mark'd merry Mickledale Minstrel moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pass'd poem pride proud rest ride rode Roderick rose round rude rung Saint Saint Hilda scarce Scotland Scotland's Scott Scottish seem'd show'd sire song sound spear spoke squire steed stood sword tale tell thee thine thou thought tide toil tower Twas warrior wave WAVERLEY NOVELS ween wild
Pasajes populares
Página 97 - mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran : There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? XIII.
Página 96 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied : Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ; And now am I come, with this lost love of mine To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar...
Página 40 - 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!
Página 96 - 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...
Página 131 - 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.
Página 115 - King James did rushing come. — Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, Until at weapon-point they close. — They close, in clouds of smoke and dust, With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ; And such a yell was there, Of sudden and portentous birth, As if men fought upon the earth, And...
Página 128 - With head upraised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, In listening mood, she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand.
Página 34 - CALL it not vain :— they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies : Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed Bard make moan ; That mountains weep in crystal rill ; That flowers in tears of balm distil ; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply ; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.
Página 9 - 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. The last of all the bards was he. Who sung of Border chivalry; For, well-a-day ! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead ; And he, neglected and oppressed, Wished to be with them, and at rest...
Página 73 - Glared through the window's rusty bars, And ever, by the winter hearth, Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms; Of patriot battles, won of old By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold ; Of later fields of feud and fight, When, pouring from their Highland height, The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Had swept the scarlet ranks away. While...