The Poetical Works of Sir Walter ScottDe Wolfe, Fiske, 1884 - 536 pages |
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Page iii
... Wake Dirge ... 440 Helvellyn ....... ..440 Donald Caird's come again .......... 467 Madge Wil lfire's Songs .............. 467 Lucy Ashton's Song .... ....... 469 The Dying Bard . .441 Norman the Forester's Song ......... 469 The Maid ...
... Wake Dirge ... 440 Helvellyn ....... ..440 Donald Caird's come again .......... 467 Madge Wil lfire's Songs .............. 467 Lucy Ashton's Song .... ....... 469 The Dying Bard . .441 Norman the Forester's Song ......... 469 The Maid ...
Page iv
... Wake ........ ..491 The Wild Huntsman ...... ..529 Song - The Truth of Woman ......... 491 The Fire King ... .532 Ahriman .... ... 491 Frederick and Alice ................ 35 bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye- No humbler iv ...
... Wake ........ ..491 The Wild Huntsman ...... ..529 Song - The Truth of Woman ......... 491 The Fire King ... .532 Ahriman .... ... 491 Frederick and Alice ................ 35 bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye- No humbler iv ...
Page 15
... wake my heart to notes of flame ! The crest of the Cranstouns , in allusion to their name is a crane , dormant , holding a stone in his foot , with an emphatic Border 7 night ; For it was William of Deloraine . IV . But no whit weary ...
... wake my heart to notes of flame ! The crest of the Cranstouns , in allusion to their name is a crane , dormant , holding a stone in his foot , with an emphatic Border 7 night ; For it was William of Deloraine . IV . But no whit weary ...
Page 28
... wake * dirge , Our moat , the grave where they shall lie . " XXVII . Proud she look'd round , applause to claim- Then lighten'd Thirlestane's eye of flame ; His bugle Wat of Harden blew ; Pensils and pennons wide were flung , To heaven ...
... wake * dirge , Our moat , the grave where they shall lie . " XXVII . Proud she look'd round , applause to claim- Then lighten'd Thirlestane's eye of flame ; His bugle Wat of Harden blew ; Pensils and pennons wide were flung , To heaven ...
Page 30
... wakes at praise , And strives to trim the short - lived blaze . Smiled then , Aged Man , And thus his tale continued ran . well - pleased , the CANTO FIFTH , I. CALL it not vain : -they do not err , Who say , that when the Poet dies ...
... wakes at praise , And strives to trim the short - lived blaze . Smiled then , Aged Man , And thus his tale continued ran . well - pleased , the CANTO FIFTH , I. CALL it not vain : -they do not err , Who say , that when the Poet dies ...
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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.