The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With memoir of the author |
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Página xi
... stood the printer already in such good stead , that he must also find capital to carry on the increased operations he created . Ballantyne showed this to the poet , who conceived the idea of becoming his partner . He did so . ' Twas ...
... stood the printer already in such good stead , that he must also find capital to carry on the increased operations he created . Ballantyne showed this to the poet , who conceived the idea of becoming his partner . He did so . ' Twas ...
Página xiv
... stood next without his most confiding regard . To the world at large " the author of Waverley " became a myth of magnitude , not to speak of the transcendent merit of Waverley " as a work of art . There is an aroma belonging to it that ...
... stood next without his most confiding regard . To the world at large " the author of Waverley " became a myth of magnitude , not to speak of the transcendent merit of Waverley " as a work of art . There is an aroma belonging to it that ...
Página 7
... Stood saddled in stable day and night , Barbed with frontlet of steel , I trow , And with Jedwood - axe at saddle bow ; A hundred more fed free in stall : - Such was the custom of Branksome Hall . VI . Why do these steeds stand ready ...
... Stood saddled in stable day and night , Barbed with frontlet of steel , I trow , And with Jedwood - axe at saddle bow ; A hundred more fed free in stall : - Such was the custom of Branksome Hall . VI . Why do these steeds stand ready ...
Página 8
... stood , When Mathouse burn to Melrose ran , All purple with their blood ; And well she knew , her mother dread , Before Lord Cranstoun she should wed , Would see her on her dying bed . XI . Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her father was ...
... stood , When Mathouse burn to Melrose ran , All purple with their blood ; And well she knew , her mother dread , Before Lord Cranstoun she should wed , Would see her on her dying bed . XI . Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her father was ...
Página 18
... 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 bury his Mighty Book ...
... 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 bury his Mighty Book ...
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Términos y frases comunes
ancient Argentine arms bade band banner battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright brow Bruce castle cheer Chieftain clan courser crest Dæmon dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread drew Edinburgh Annual Ettricke Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fierce fight fire gallant glance glen grace grey Grey Brother hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy honoured isle King knight lady land light lonely look Lord Marmion Lorn loud maid minstrel monarch Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pale pride Redmond Risingham Roderick Rokeby's Ronald round rude rung Saint Saint Hilda Saxon scarce Scotland Scottish shore shout sire song sought soul sound spear steed stern stood strain strife sword tale tell thee thine thou tide toil tower Twas twixt wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid wind youth
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Página 154 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Página 56 - 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...
Página 154 - 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,
Página 154 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide, And now I am 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 12 - 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...
Página 240 - 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.
Página 181 - England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your...
Página 212 - 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 194 - While many a broken band Disordered through her currents dash, To gain the Scottish land ; To town and tower, to down and dale, To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, And raise the universal wail. Tradition, legend, tune, and song Shall many an age that wail prolong ; Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife and carnage drear Of Flodden's fatal field. Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear And broken was her shield ! xxxv.
Página 64 - And glimmered all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St Clair.