The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Baronet, Volume 8

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A. Constable, 1821 - English poetry
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Page 135 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, " A weary lot is thine ! " To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, " And press the rue for wine ! " A lightsome eye, a soldiers mien, " A feather of the blue, " A doublet of the Lincoln green,— " No more of me you knew,
Page 210 - Let dimpled Mirth his temples twine With tendrils of the laughing vine ; The manly oak, the pensive yew, To patriot and to sage be due ; The myrtle bough bids lovers live, But that Matilda will not give ; Then, Lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress tree ! Let merry England proudly
Page 122 - Yet mickle must the maiden dare, " Would reign my Queen of May ! XVIII. " Maiden! a nameless life I lead, " A nameless death I'll die; " The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead, " Were better mate than I! " And when I'm with my comrades met, " Beneath the greenwood bough, " What once we were we all forget, .
Page 368 - friend Mr Wordsworth's lines:— . the good old rule Sufficeth them ; the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can. Note VII. His plaited hair in elf-locks spread,
Page 367 - after the death of one of their chiefe lords or captaines, " they doe presently assemble themselves to a place generally " appointed and knowne unto them, to choose another in his " stead, where they do nominate and elect, for the most part " not the eldest sonne, nor any of the children of the lord
Page 211 - Her blended roses, bought so dear ; Let Albin bind her bonnet blue With heath and hare-bell dipp'd in dew ; On favoured Erin's crest be seen The flower she loves of emerald green — But, Lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress tree. Strike the wild harp, while maids
Page 121 - I read you for a bold Dragoon, " That lists the tuck of drum."— " I list no more the tuck of drum, " No more the trumpet hear; " But when the beetle sounds his hum, . " My comrades take the spear. CHOEUS. " And, O ! though Brignall banks be fair, " Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Page 212 - But, O Matilda, twine not now ! Stay till a few brief months are past, And I have look'd and loved my last! When villagers my shroud bestrew With pansies, rosemary, and rue,— Then, Lady, weave a wreath for me, And weave it of the cypress tree. XIV.
Page 367 - any, or the next cousin, or so forth, as any is elder in that " kindred or sept; and then next to them doe they choose " the next of the blood to be Tanist, who shall next succeed " him in the said captainry, if he live thereunto.
Page 474 - with slain, the earth bedrench'd with blood ! LI. Then Zaragoza—blighted be the tongue That names thy name without the honour due ! For never hath the harp of Minstrel rung, Of faith so felly proved, so firmly true ! Mine, sap, and bomb, thy shatter'd ruins knew, Each art of war's extremity had room, Twice from thy

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