The Poetical Works of Sir Walter ScottDe Wolfe, Fiske, 1884 - 536 pages |
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Page 7
... wave was crested with tawny foam , Like the mane of a chestnut steed . In vain ! no torrent , deep or broad , Might bar the bold moss - trooper's road . XXIX . At the first plunge the horse sunk low , And the water broke o'er the saddle ...
... wave was crested with tawny foam , Like the mane of a chestnut steed . In vain ! no torrent , deep or broad , Might bar the bold moss - trooper's road . XXIX . At the first plunge the horse sunk low , And the water broke o'er the saddle ...
Page 10
... wave , The bells would ring in Notre Dame ! Some of his skill he taught to me ; And , Warrior , I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three , And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone : But to speak them were a ...
... wave , The bells would ring in Notre Dame ! Some of his skill he taught to me ; And , Warrior , I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three , And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone : But to speak them were a ...
Page 11
... wave , And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave . XVI . " It was a night of woe and dread , When Michael in the tomb I laid ! Strange sounds along the chancel pass'd , banners blast ; " - Tho waved without a -Still spoke the Monk ...
... wave , And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave . XVI . " It was a night of woe and dread , When Michael in the tomb I laid ! Strange sounds along the chancel pass'd , banners blast ; " - Tho waved without a -Still spoke the Monk ...
Page 23
... wave , From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height , His ready lances Thirlestane brave Array'd beneath a banner bright . The treasured fleur - de - luce he claims , To wreathe his shield , since royal James , Encamp'd by Fala's mossy wave ...
... wave , From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height , His ready lances Thirlestane brave Array'd beneath a banner bright . The treasured fleur - de - luce he claims , To wreathe his shield , since royal James , Encamp'd by Fala's mossy wave ...
Page 29
... fight they stood , And tuneful hends were stain'd with blood ; Where still the thorn's white branches wave , Memorial o'er his rival's grave . XXXV . Why should I tell the rigid doom , THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL . 29.
... fight they stood , And tuneful hends were stain'd with blood ; Where still the thorn's white branches wave , Memorial o'er his rival's grave . XXXV . Why should I tell the rigid doom , THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL . 29.
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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.