The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With memoir of the author |
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Página 6
... true , Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch . IV . Ten of them were sheathed in steel , With belted sword , and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright , Neither by day , nor yet by night : They lay down to rest , With corslet laced ,
... true , Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch . IV . Ten of them were sheathed in steel , With belted sword , and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright , Neither by day , nor yet by night : They lay down to rest , With corslet laced ,
Página 7
... sword hangs rusting on the wall , Beside his broken spear . Bards long shall tell , How Lord Walter fell ! When startled burghers fled , afar , The furies of the Border war ; When the streets of high Dunedin Saw lances gleam , and ...
... sword hangs rusting on the wall , Beside his broken spear . Bards long shall tell , How Lord Walter fell ! When startled burghers fled , afar , The furies of the Border war ; When the streets of high Dunedin Saw lances gleam , and ...
Página 36
... sword Before their father's band ; A braver knight than Harden's lord Ne'er belted on a brand . X. Scotts of Eskdale , a stalwart band , Came trooping down the Todshawhill ; By the sword they won their land , And by the sword they hold ...
... sword Before their father's band ; A braver knight than Harden's lord Ne'er belted on a brand . X. Scotts of Eskdale , a stalwart band , Came trooping down the Todshawhill ; By the sword they won their land , And by the sword they hold ...
Página 40
... sword , They knew no country , owned no lord : They were not armed like England's sons , But bore the levin - darting guns ; Buff coats , all frounced and ' broidered o'er , And morsing - horns * and scarfs they wore ; Each better knee ...
... sword , They knew no country , owned no lord : They were not armed like England's sons , But bore the levin - darting guns ; Buff coats , all frounced and ' broidered o'er , And morsing - horns * and scarfs they wore ; Each better knee ...
Página 43
... sword , When English blood swelled Ancrain ford ; And but that Lord Dacre's steed was wight , And bare him ably in the flight , Himself had seen him dubbed a knight . For the young heir of Branksome's line , God be his aid , and God be ...
... sword , When English blood swelled Ancrain ford ; And but that Lord Dacre's steed was wight , And bare him ably in the flight , Himself had seen him dubbed a knight . For the young heir of Branksome's line , God be his aid , and God be ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Abbess agen arms bade band banner battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright brow castle cheer Chieftain clan courser crest Dæmon Dame dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread drew Ettricke Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fierce fight gallant glance glen grace Græme grey hall hand harp hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy honoured King knight lady Ladye lance land light Lindisfarne lonely look Lord Marmion loud maid merry mingled minstrel Monarch Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble o'er pale pennons pride proud Risingham Roderick rose round rude rung Saint Saint Hilda Saxon scarce Scotland Scotland's Scottish shore shout sire smiled song sought soul sound spear spoke steed stern stood strain strife sword tale tell thee thine thou tide toil tower Twas twixt voice wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid wind youth
Pasajes populares
Página 156 - 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 58 - 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 156 - 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 156 - 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 14 - 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 242 - 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 183 - 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 214 - 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 196 - 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 66 - 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.