The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott (Google eBook)

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T. Nelson and sons, 1874
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Page 58 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ! If such there breathe, go, mark him well...
Page 156 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; And now am I come with this lost love of mine To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
Page 242 - 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 193 - 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...
Page 3 - Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had called his harmless art a crime. A wandering Harper, scorned and poor, He begged his bread from door to door; And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, The harp, a king had loved to hear.
Page 190 - At length the freshening western blast, Aside the shroud of battle cast ; And, first, the ridge of mingled spears, Above the brightening cloud appears : And in the smoke the pennons flew, As in the storm the white sea-mew. Then marked they, dashing broad and far, The broken billows of the war, And plumed crests of chieftains brave, Floating like foam upon the wave ; But nought distinct they see.
Page 79 - DAY set on Norham's castled steep. And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep. And Cheviot's mountains lone : The battled towers, the donjon keep, The loop-hole grates where captives weep. The flanking walls that round it sweep, In yellow lustre shone.
Page 14 - If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins grey.
Page 549 - O they rade on, and farther on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea. It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, And they waded through red blude to the knee ; For a' the blude that's shed on earth Rins through the springs o
Page 202 - The antlered monarch of the waste Sprang from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high, Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuffed the tainted gale, A moment listened to the cry That thickened as the chase drew nigh; Then, as the headmost foes appeared, With one brave bound the copse he cleared, And, stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of...

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