The lay of the last minstrel, and The lady of the lake. With intrs. and notes byF.T. Palgrave. From the Globe ed. of Scott's poetical works |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 28
Página 8
... tell whether to a week's end he could call his kine his own . " They are like to Job , " says Fuller , quaintly , not in piety and patience , but in sudden plenty and poverty ; sometimes having flocks and herds in the morning , none at ...
... tell whether to a week's end he could call his kine his own . " They are like to Job , " says Fuller , quaintly , not in piety and patience , but in sudden plenty and poverty ; sometimes having flocks and herds in the morning , none at ...
Página 15
... tell , That they should tend the old man well : For she had known adversity , Though born in such a high degree ; In pride of power , in beauty's bloom , Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb ! When kindness had his wants supplied , And ...
... tell , That they should tend the old man well : For she had known adversity , Though born in such a high degree ; In pride of power , in beauty's bloom , Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb ! When kindness had his wants supplied , And ...
Página 16
... tell- Jesu Maria , shield us well ! No living wight , save the Ladye alone , Had dared to cross the threshold stone . II . The tables were drawn , it was idlesse all ; Knight , and page , and household squire , Loiter'd through the ...
... tell- Jesu Maria , shield us well ! No living wight , save the Ladye alone , Had dared to cross the threshold stone . II . The tables were drawn , it was idlesse all ; Knight , and page , and household squire , Loiter'd through the ...
Página 17
... 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 falchions redden , And heard the slogan's + deadly yell- Then the Chief of ...
... 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 falchions redden , And heard the slogan's + deadly yell- Then the Chief of ...
Página 18
... Tell me , thou , who view'st the stars , When shall cease these feudal jars ? What shall be the maiden's fate ? Who shall be the maiden's mate ? ” — XVII . MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . " Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll , In utter darkness ...
... Tell me , thou , who view'st the stars , When shall cease these feudal jars ? What shall be the maiden's fate ? Who shall be the maiden's mate ? ” — XVII . MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . " Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll , In utter darkness ...
Términos y frases comunes
arms band bard battle beneath blade blood blood-hound bold Border bower brand Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave breast brow Buccleuch castle Chief Chieftain clan Clan-Alpine's cliff courser Cranstoun crest Dame dark deep deer Deloraine Douglas dread E. A. FREEMAN Earl Ellen English Eskdale fair falchion FASNACHT fcap fear Fiery Cross Fitz-James gallant glance glen grace Græme grey hand harp Hawick hear heard heart heath heaven Highland hill hound King knight Lady Ladye lake lance land Loch Achray Loch Katrine Loch Voil lone Lord loud maid maiden mark'd merry Minstrel Moss-troopers mountain ne'er noble o'er pass'd plaid poem pride rock Roderick Dhu rose round Saint Modan Saxon Scotland Scott Scottish seem'd side sire snood song sought sound spear speed steed stood stranger sword tear Teviot's Teviotdale thee thine thou tide tower Trosachs turn'd Twas warrior wave wild word
Pasajes populares
Página 84 - 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 51 - Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide, If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.
Página 63 - Where glistening streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue; So wondrous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream.
Página 15 - Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had called his harmless art a crime. A wandering Harper, scorned and poor, He begged his bread from door to door, And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, The harp a king had loved to hear.
Página 102 - Now, truce, farewell! and ruth begone! — Yet think not that by thee alone, Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds against thee cast. But fear not, doubt not, which thou wilt — We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.
Página 80 - The torrent show'd its glistening pride ; Invisible in flecked sky, The lark sent down her revelry ; The blackbird and the speckled thrush Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; In answer coo'd the cushat dove Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.
Página 16 - In varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along: The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot: Cold diffidence, and age's frost, In the full tide of song were lost : Each blank, in faithless memory void, The poet's glowing thought supplied ; And, while his harp responsive rung, 'Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung.
Página 113 - The Minstrel came once more to view The eastern ridge of Benvenue, For ere he parted, he would say Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — Where shall he find, in foreign land, So lone a lake, so sweet a strand...
Página 61 - The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high...
Página 97 - I dare ! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand." — "Bold words! — but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain?