The poetical works of Walter Scott

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1820
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Page 92 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, " Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Page 90 - 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.
Page 198 - And many a sinner's parting seen, But never aught like this." — The war, that for a space did fail, Now trebly thundering swelled the gale, And — STANLEY ! was the cry : — A light on Marmion's visage spread, And fired his glazing eye : With dying hand, above his head, He shook the fragment of his blade, And shouted " Victory ! — Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! " Were the last words of Marmion.
Page 192 - Dragg'd from among the horses' feet, With dinted shield, and helmet beat, The falcon-crest and plumage gone, Can that be haughty Marmion ! .... Young Blount his...
Page 51 - With gloomy splendour red ; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a lustre proud, Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, Where the huge castle holds its state, And all the steep slope down Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, Piled deep and massy, close and high, Mine own romantic town...
Page 194 - 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 201 - Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, Unbroken was the ring ; The stubborn spear-men still made good Their dark impenetrable wood, Each stepping where his comrade stood, The instant that he fell.
Page 171 - the Douglas cried, " and chase ! " But soon he rein'd his fury's pace : " A royal messenger he came, Though most unworthy of the name. — A letter forged ! Saint Jude to speed ! Did ever knight so foul a deed ? At first in heart it liked me ill, When the King praised his clerkly skill. Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line.
Page 133 - On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; On Christmas eve the mass was sung : That only night in all the year, Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear...
Page 91 - I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; — And now I am 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.

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