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Abbey admirably appear banks beautiful better building Burns called carried Castle Cathedral Chapel CHAPTER church close course Edinburgh effect English fact feet figures gave give given Glasgow Greenock hand head Highland Mary hills Inversnaid island James John known Lady lake land light lines lived Loch Katrine Loch Lomond look Lord lovely Melrose memory miles monument mountain nature never North once passed picture poem poet portion present Princes probably Queen river road Rob Roy Robert rock Roslin round ruins says scene scenery Scotch Scotland Scott Scottish seems seen shore side Sir Walter Scott sketch stands stone Street taken tell thought tourists town travelling trees Trosachs turned walk West woods young
Page 224 - In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light, And mountains, that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land.
Page 350 - The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou wouldst 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.
Page 335 - Raby there was slain, Whose prowess did surmount. For Witherington needs must I wail As one in doleful dumps ; For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumps.
Page 204 - These trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water, that doth make A murmur near the silent lake...
Page 133 - Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Page 387 - There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle , Each one the holy vault doth hold, But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! And each St.
Page 250 - THERE'S not a nook within this solemn Pass, But were an apt confessional for One Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone, That Life is but a tale of morning grass Withered at eve.
Page 211 - Had you seen but these roads before they were made, You'd lift up your hands and bless Marshal Wade.