The Poetical Works of Walter Scott, Esq, Volumen 1James Eastburn & Company, 1819 |
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Página 42
... Baron Henry , her own true knight . XXVIII . The knight and ladye fair are met , And under the hawthorn's boughs are set . A fairer pair were never seen To meet beneath the hawthorn green . He was stately , and young , and tall ...
... Baron Henry , her own true knight . XXVIII . The knight and ladye fair are met , And under the hawthorn's boughs are set . A fairer pair were never seen To meet beneath the hawthorn green . He was stately , and young , and tall ...
Página 43
... baron's dwarf his courser held , And held his crested helm and spear . That dwarf was scarce an earthly man , If the tales were true , that of him ran Through all the Border , far and near . " Twas said , when the baron a hunting rode ...
... baron's dwarf his courser held , And held his crested helm and spear . That dwarf was scarce an earthly man , If the tales were true , that of him ran Through all the Border , far and near . " Twas said , when the baron a hunting rode ...
Página 44
... baron staid ; Little he ate , and less he spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock : And oft apart his arms he tossed , And often muttered , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But well Lord Cranstoun ...
... baron staid ; Little he ate , and less he spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock : And oft apart his arms he tossed , And often muttered , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But well Lord Cranstoun ...
Página 45
... baron away . They burned the chapel for very rage , And cursed Lord Cranstoun's goblin page . XXXIV . And now , in Branksome's good green wood , As under the aged oak he stood , The baron's courser pricks his ears , As if a distant ...
... baron away . They burned the chapel for very rage , And cursed Lord Cranstoun's goblin page . XXXIV . And now , in Branksome's good green wood , As under the aged oak he stood , The baron's courser pricks his ears , As if a distant ...
Página 44
... baron staid ; Little he ate , and less he spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock : And oft apart his arms he tossed , And often muttered , “ Lost ! lost ! lost ! ” He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But well Lord Cranstoun ...
... baron staid ; Little he ate , and less he spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock : And oft apart his arms he tossed , And often muttered , “ Lost ! lost ! lost ! ” He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But well Lord Cranstoun ...
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Términos y frases comunes
ancient arms band banner Bard baron beneath betwixt Bewcastle blaze blood blood-hound Border bower Branksome Branksome hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch bugle called CANTO castle chapel Chief of Kintail Clair clan courser Cranstoun crest Cumberland dæmons Dame dark dead death Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus Eildon Hills English Ettricke Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle fame Fawdon fight forest gallant hall hand harp head hear heard heart highnes hill horse Howard Jedburgh king Kintail Kirkwall knight Ladye laird lance lands LAST MINSTREL loud maid Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble Note o'er ride rode round Saint Cloud Scotland Scots Scottish Scottish Border shulde Sir William slain song spear steed stone stood sword tale Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower Twas Virgilius Walter Scott warrior wave wild William of Deloraine wound
Pasajes populares
Página 121 - 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, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Página 142 - That day of wrath, .that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day...
Página 105 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Página 121 - 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...
Página 29 - 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 ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die...
Página 34 - The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand, "Twixt poplars straight, the osier wand, In many a freakish knot, had twined ; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
Página 7 - 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 277 - And lovers' ears in hearing ; And love, in life's extremity, Can lend an hour of cheering. Disease had been in Mary's bower And slow decay from mourning, Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower To watch her Love's returning.
Página 282 - 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, "Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Página 122 - 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 band, That knits me to thy rugged strand!