Donean Tourist: Giving an Account of the Battles, Castles, Gentlemen's Seats, Families with Their Origin, Armorial Ensigns ... with Anecdotes ... Ballads (Google eBook)

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J. Booth, 1828 - 475 pages
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Page 113 - Let vanity adorn the marble tomb With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome, Where night and desolation ever frown. Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrewn, Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave; And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
Page 470 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, . Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 17 - Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; Menteith and Breadalbane, then, Echo his praise agen, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!
Page 473 - He thought about himself, and the whole earth, Of man the wonderful, and of the stars, And how the deuce they ever could have birth; And then he thought of earthquakes, and of wars, How many miles the moon might have in girth, Of air-balloons, and of the many bars To perfect knowledge of the boundless skies ; And then he thought of Donna Julia's eyes.
Page 18 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Page 17 - Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe !" Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! O, that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! O that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem, Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow ! Loud should Clan- Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, " Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe !
Page 271 - At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching The Flowers of the Forest are a wede away.
Page 429 - THE Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, To horse, to horse ! halloo, halloo ! His fiery courser snuffs the morn, And thronging serfs their lord pursue. The eager pack, from couples freed, Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake ; While answering hound, and horn, and steed, The mountain echoes startling wake. The beams of God's own...
Page 425 - He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh he might have been a King! He was a braw gallant, And he playd at the ba; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Was the flower amang them a'.
Page 19 - ... that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber. Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and for ever...

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