The lay of the last minstrel, a poem. With Ballads and lyrical pieces |
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Página 31
... St Michael's night , And , though stars be dim , the moon is bright ; And the Cross , of bloody red , Will point to the grave of the mighty dead . XXIII . " What he gives thee , see thou CANTO I. 31 THE LAST MINSTREL .
... St Michael's night , And , though stars be dim , the moon is bright ; And the Cross , of bloody red , Will point to the grave of the mighty dead . XXIII . " What he gives thee , see thou CANTO I. 31 THE LAST MINSTREL .
Página 32
sir Walter Scott (bart.) XXIII . " What he gives thee , see thou keep ; Stay not thou for food or sleep Be it scroll , or be it book , Into it , knight , thou must not look ; If thou readest , thou art lorn ! Better had'st thou ne'er ...
sir Walter Scott (bart.) XXIII . " What he gives thee , see thou keep ; Stay not thou for food or sleep Be it scroll , or be it book , Into it , knight , thou must not look ; If thou readest , thou art lorn ! Better had'st thou ne'er ...
Página 75
... coursers seemed to know That each was other's mortal foe ; And snorted fire , when wheeled around , To give each knight his vantage ground . V. In rapid round the Baron bent ; He sighed CANTO III . THE LAST MINSTREL . 75.
... coursers seemed to know That each was other's mortal foe ; And snorted fire , when wheeled around , To give each knight his vantage ground . V. In rapid round the Baron bent ; He sighed CANTO III . THE LAST MINSTREL . 75.
Página 110
... Give thy best steed , as a vassal ought . ” " Dear to me is my bonny white steed , Oft has he helped me at pinch of need ; Lord and Earl though thou be , I trow , I can rein Bucksfoot better than thou . " . Word on word gave fuel to ...
... Give thy best steed , as a vassal ought . ” " Dear to me is my bonny white steed , Oft has he helped me at pinch of need ; Lord and Earl though thou be , I trow , I can rein Bucksfoot better than thou . " . Word on word gave fuel to ...
Página 112
... Give me in peace my heriot due , Thy bonny white steed , or thou shalt rue . If my horn I three times wind , Eskdale shall long have the sound in mind . ” — XII . Loudly the Beattison laughed in scorn ; - " Little care we for thy winded ...
... Give me in peace my heriot due , Thy bonny white steed , or thou shalt rue . If my horn I three times wind , Eskdale shall long have the sound in mind . ” — XII . Loudly the Beattison laughed in scorn ; - " Little care we for thy winded ...
Términos y frases comunes
ancient arms band bard Baron Beattisons beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chief clan courser crest cross Cumberland Dame dead Douglas dread Duke Earl Earl of Angus Eildon Hills English Eskdale Ettricke Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle Fawdon fight fire gallant hall hand harp heard highnes hill horse Howard James Jedburgh king Kirkwall knight Ladye lances lands LAST MINSTREL Liddesdale Lord Dacre loud Melrose Melrose Abbey Michael Scott MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble Note o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scotland Scots Scottish Scottish Border shew shulde Sir William slain song spear St Clair steed stone stood sun shines fair sword Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower Twas tyme Virgilius warden warriors ween wild William of Deloraine word wound
Pasajes populares
Página 206 - 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? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll, When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ! O, on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away!
Página 175 - 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 19 - 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...
Página 43 - IF thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moon-light ; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
Página 196 - O listen, listen, ladies gay ! No haughty feat of arms I tell ; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. — " Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew ! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay ! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. " The blackening wave is edged with white : To inch and rock the sea-mews fly ; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forbode that wreck is nigh.
Página 14 - And, would the noble Duchess deign To listen to an old man's strain, Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak, He thought even yet, the sooth to speak, That, if she loved the harp to hear, He could make music to her ear.
Página 15 - Where she with all her ladies sate, Perchance he wished his boon denied : For, when to tune his harp he tried, His trembling hand had lost the ease Which marks security to please...
Página 176 - 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 ! Still, as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill.
Página 11 - 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, welladay! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead; And he, neglected and oppressed, Wished to be with them, and at rest.
Página 51 - In these far climes, it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ; A wizard of such dreaded fame, That when, in Salamanca's cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame...