The Poetical Works of Sir Walter ScottDe Wolfe, Fiske, 1884 - 536 pages |
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Page 5
... beneath the moon's pale beam . Tell me , thou , who view'st the stars , When shall cease these fedual jars ? What shall be the maiden's fate ? Who shall be the maiden's mate ? " XVII . MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . " Arthur's slow wain his course ...
... beneath the moon's pale beam . Tell me , thou , who view'st the stars , When shall cease these fedual jars ? What shall be the maiden's fate ? Who shall be the maiden's mate ? " XVII . MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . " Arthur's slow wain his course ...
Page 7
... Beneath the tower of Hazeldean . XXVI . The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ; - " Stand , ho ! thou courier of the dark . " - " For Branksome , ho ! " the knight rejoin'd , And left the friendly tower behind . He turn'd him now from ...
... Beneath the tower of Hazeldean . XXVI . The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ; - " Stand , ho ! thou courier of the dark . " - " For Branksome , ho ! " the knight rejoin'd , And left the friendly tower behind . He turn'd him now from ...
Page 9
... beneath their feet were the bones of the dead . VIII . Spreading herbs , and flowerets bright , Glisten'd with the dew of night ; Nor herb , nor floweret , glisten'd there , But was carved in the cloister - arches as fair . The monk ...
... beneath their feet were the bones of the dead . VIII . Spreading herbs , and flowerets bright , Glisten'd with the dew of night ; Nor herb , nor floweret , glisten'd there , But was carved in the cloister - arches as fair . The monk ...
Page 10
... beneath the Cross of God : Now , strange to my eyes thine arms appear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear . XIII . " In these far climes it was my lot To meet the wond'rous Michael Scott , A wizard , of such dreaded fame ...
... beneath the Cross of God : Now , strange to my eyes thine arms appear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear . XIII . " In these far climes it was my lot To meet the wond'rous Michael Scott , A wizard , of such dreaded fame ...
Page 13
... beneath the rising day Smiled Branksome Towers and Te- viot's tide . The wild birds told their warbling tale , And wakend every flower that blows ; And peeped forth the violet pale , And spread her breast the mountain rose . And ...
... beneath the rising day Smiled Branksome Towers and Te- viot's tide . The wild birds told their warbling tale , And wakend every flower that blows ; And peeped forth the violet pale , And spread her breast the mountain rose . And ...
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Common terms and phrases
agen arms bade band banner bard battle beneath blithe blood bold Bonny Dundee bower brand Branksome brave breast bright broadsword brow Bruce castle courser crest dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread fair falchion fame fear fell fierce fight fire flame gallant glance glen grace grey hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill King knight lady lance land light Loch Katrine lone look loud maid maiden mark'd minstrel morning Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble o'er pale pass'd pennon pibroch Piobaireachd press'd pride proud Risingham rock round rung Saint Saxon scarce Scotland Scottish seem'd show'd sire smile song sought soul sound spear spoke steed stern stood strife Swinton sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower turn'd Twas twixt vex'd voice wake warrior wave ween wild wind youth
Popular passages
Page 140 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 95 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bridemaidens...
Page 118 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made, When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou ! — Scarce were the piteous accents said, When, with the Baron's casque, the maid To the nigh streamlet ran.
Page 449 - Come every hill-plaid, and True heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one.
Page 167 - Have, then, thy wish !"— He whistled shrill, And he was answer'd from the hill ; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; On right, on left, above, below, Sprung up at once the lurking foe...
Page 466 - No portents now our foes amaze, Forsaken Israel wanders lone ; Our fathers would not know Thy ways, And Thou hast left them to their own.
Page 70 - It was a barren scene, and wild, Where naked cliffs were rudely piled; But ever and anon between Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green ; And well the lonely infant knew Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And honeysuckle loved to crawl Up the low crag and ruined wall.
Page 459 - ... THE sun upon the Weirdlaw hill, In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet ; The westland wind is hush and still, The lake lies sleeping at my feet. Yet not the landscape to mine eye Bears those bright hues that once it bore ; Though evening, with her richest dye, Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's shore. With listless look along the plain, I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride.
Page 12 - They heard strange noises on the blast ; And through the cloister-galleries small, Which at mid-height thread the chancel wall, Loud sobs, and laughter louder, ran, And voices unlike the voice of man ; As if the fiends kept holiday, Because these spells were brought to day. I cannot tell how the truth may be ; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.
Page 37 - 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.