The History of the Royal Company of Archers: The Queen's Body-guard for Scotland

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W. Blackwood, 1875 - Great Britain - 393 pages

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Page 4 - He takes the bow, directs the shaft above, And, following with his eye the soaring dove, Implores the God to speed it through the skies, With vows of firstling lambs, and grateful sacrifice. The dove, in airy circles as she wheels, Amid the clouds the piercing arrow feels ; Quite through and through the point its passage found. And at his feet fell bloody to the ground.
Page 342 - He whose ball brought down the mark, held the proud title of Captain of the Popinjay for the remainder of the day, and was usually escorted in triumph to the most...
Page 2 - I know not the day of my death : now therefore take, I pray thee, thy weapons, thy quiver and thy bow, and go out to the field, and take me some venison ; and make me savoury meat, such as I love, and bring it to me, that I may eat; that my soul may bless thee before I die.
Page 100 - Inquiry, Historical and Critical, into the Evidence against Mary Queen of Scots, and an Examination of the Histories of Dr Robertson and Mr Hume with respect to that Evidence.
Page 15 - And as for our good people's lawful recreation, our pleasure likewise is, that after the end of divine service our good people be not disturbed, letted or discouraged from any lawful recreation, such as dancing, either men or women, archery for men, leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmless recreation, nor from having of May games, Whitsun ales, and morris dances, and the setting up of maypoles and other sports therewith used: so as the same be had in due and convenient time, without impediment...
Page 41 - Anne, by the Grace of God, Queen of Great Britain, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c.
Page 3 - He heard ; and madly, at the motion pleased, His polish'd bow with hasty rashness seized. 'Twas formed of horn, and smooth'd with artful toil, A mountain goat resign'd the shining spoil, Who pierced long since beneath his arrows bled ; The stately quarry on the cliffs lay dead, And sixteen palms his brow's large honours spread : The workman join'd and shaped the bended horns, And beaten gold each taper point adorns.
Page 3 - Apollo's altars in his native town. Now with full force the yielding horn he bends, Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling ends ; Close to his breast he strains the nerve below, Till the barb'd point approach the circling bow ; The' impatient weapon whizzes on the wing ; Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering string.
Page 125 - Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Page 4 - The hero fixes in the sandy shore; To the tall top a milk-white dove they tie, The trembling mark at which their arrows fly. "Whose weapon strikes yon fluttering bird, shall bear These two-edged axes, terrible in war; The single, he whose shaft divides the cord.

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