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Abbot Allaster Amadine archers Argentine Argyleshire arms Arran Artornish banner bark battle battle of Bannockburn battle of Falkirk battle of Methven beneath blood bold bore brave breast Brodick brother brow Bruce Carrick castle cheer Chieftain Colonsay Comyn Coolin cried cross'd dark deep Douglas Earl Edith Edward Edward Bruce England's English fair Fair Lords fame fear fell fierce fight galley glance gleams hand hast hath heart Heaven hill host Isabel Island Isle of Arran Isles King Robert knight land Liege light Loch Etive Lord Ronald Lorn's loud Maid of Lorn mark'd minstrel mirth Monarch mountain ne'er noble o'er pass'd plaid press'd pride rock rude sail Saint scene Scotland Scottish seem'd Seneschal shore shout slain Somerled sought spear stern strife sunk swell sword tale tell thee thine thou tide Torquil tower turn'd valiant vex'd wake warrior wave wild wind
Page 110 - Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea. The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, And Ulva dark and Colonsay, And all the group of islets gay That guard famed Staffa round.
Page 110 - Where, as to shame the temples deck'd By skill of earthly architect, Nature herself, it seem'd, would raise A Minster to her Maker's praise ! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells And still, between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, In varied tone prolong'd and high, That mocks the organ's melody.
Page 227 - Beyond the shadow of the ship I watched the water-snakes ; They moved in tracks of shining white ; And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire — Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam ; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
Page 111 - Scarba's isle, whose tortured shore Still rings to Corrievreken's roar, And lonely Colonsay; — Scenes sung by him who sings no more ! His bright and brief career is o'er, And mute his tuneful strains ; Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, That loved the light of song to pour ; A distant and a deadly shore Has LEYDEN'S cold remains ! XII.