The Poetical Works of Sir Walter ScottDe Wolfe, Fiske, 1884 - 536 pages |
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Page 5
... spoke , 16 And he called on the Spirit of the Fell . XV . RIVER SPIRIT . Sleep'st thou , brother ? " — MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . - " Brother , nay- On my hills the moon - beams play . From Craik - cross to Skelfhill - pen , By every rill , in ...
... spoke , 16 And he called on the Spirit of the Fell . XV . RIVER SPIRIT . Sleep'st thou , brother ? " — MOUNTAIN SPIRIT . - " Brother , nay- On my hills the moon - beams play . From Craik - cross to Skelfhill - pen , By every rill , in ...
Page 8
... spoke of former days , And how old age , and wand'ring long , Had done his hand and harp some wrong . The Duchess , and her daughters fair , And every gentle lady there , Each after each , in due degree , Gave praises to his melody ...
... spoke of former days , And how old age , and wand'ring long , Had done his hand and harp some wrong . The Duchess , and her daughters fair , And every gentle lady there , Each after each , in due degree , Gave praises to his melody ...
Page 10
... spoke the Monk , in solemn tone : - " I was not always a man of woe ; For Paynim countries I have trod , And fought beneath the Cross of God : Now , strange to my eyes thine arms appear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear ...
... spoke the Monk , in solemn tone : - " I was not always a man of woe ; For Paynim countries I have trod , And fought beneath the Cross of God : Now , strange to my eyes thine arms appear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear ...
Page 11
... spoke the Monk , when the bell toll'd one ! --- I tell you , that a braver man Than William of Deloraine , good at need , Against a foe ne'er spurr'd a steed ; Yet somewhat was he chilled with dread , And his hair did bristle upon his ...
... spoke the Monk , when the bell toll'd one ! --- I tell you , that a braver man Than William of Deloraine , good at need , Against a foe ne'er spurr'd a steed ; Yet somewhat was he chilled with dread , And his hair did bristle upon his ...
Page 14
... spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock ; And oft apart his arms he toss'd , And often mutter'd " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , * But well Lord Cranstoun served he : And he of his service was full fain ...
... spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock ; And oft apart his arms he toss'd , And often mutter'd " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , * But well Lord Cranstoun served he : And he of his service was full fain ...
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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.