The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart, Volume 1Phillips, Sampson,, 1858 - 840 pagina's |
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The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart: Complete in One ..., Volume 1 Sir Walter Scott Volledige weergave - 1857 |
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Allaster ancient Angus Appendix Argyleshire arms band bard Barnard Castle Baron battle battle of Methven beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold Border Branksome brave breast brow Bruce Buccleuch called CANTO castle chief clan courser dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Ettrick Forest fair falchion fear fell fight gallant gave grace gray hall hand harp hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland horse Isles James John King knight Lady lake land light Loch Katrine Lorn loud maid Marmion Minstrel Mortham moss-troopers mountain ne'er noble Norham Note o'er pass'd poem pride Risingham rock Roderick Rokeby romance round rude Saint scene Scotland Scott Scottish Scottish Border seem'd show'd slain song sound spear stanzas steed stood sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower turn'd Twas warrior wave ween wild
Populaire passages
Pagina 108 - 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...
Pagina 107 - Eske river where ford there was none ; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Pagina 161 - Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more : Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Pagina 123 - King James did rushing come. — Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, Until at weapon-point they close. — They close, in clouds of smoke and dust, With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ; And such a yell was there, Of sudden and portentous birth, As if men fought upon the earth, And fiends in upper air ; О life and death were in the shout, Recoil and rally, charge and rout, And triumph and despair.
Pagina 28 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Pagina 119 - post and pair." All hail'd with uncontroll'd delight, And general voice, the happy night, That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down. The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide ; The huge hall-table's oaken face...
Pagina 120 - Douglas' head! And first I tell thee, haughty peer, He who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate! And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near, (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword), I tell thee thou'rt defied!
Pagina 7 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruin'd central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die...
Pagina 395 - But here, - above, around, below, On mountain or in glen, Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown, Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone, As if were here denied The summer sun, the spring's sweet dew, That clothe with many a varied hue The bleakest mountain-side.
Pagina 120 - Lord Marmion turn'd, — well was his need, And dash'd the rowels in his steed, Like arrow through the archway sprung, The ponderous grate behind him rung : To pass there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume.