Tales of wonder [in verse] written and collected by M.G. Lewis


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Seite 160 - Yet hear but my word, my noble lord ! For I heard her name his name ; And that lady bright, she called the knight, Sir Richard of Coldinghame. " The bold Baron's brow then changed, I trow, From high blood-red to pale— "The grave is deep and dark — and the corpse is stiff and stark — So I may not trust thy tale. "Where fair Tweed flows round holy Melrose, And Eildon slopes to the plain, Full three nights ago, by some secret foe, That gay gallant was slain. "•The varying light deceived thy...
Seite 247 - How swifte the hill, how swifte the dale, Aright, aleft, are gone ? By hedge and tree, by thorpe and towne, They gallop, gallop on. Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede ; Splash, splash, acrosse the see : ' Hurrah ! the dead can ride apace ; Dost fear to ride with me...
Seite 28 - Oh ! hush these suspicions," Fair Imogine said, " Offensive to love and to me ! For if you be living, or if you be dead, I swear by the Virgin, that none in your stead Shall husband of Imogine be.
Seite 26 - Imogine suffers the pain of her crime, And mourns her deplorable doom. At midnight, four times in each year, does her sprite, When mortals in slumber are bound...
Seite 156 - And many a word that warlike lord Did speak to my lady there ; But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, And I heard not what they were.
Seite 180 - Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend The misbegotten dogs of hell. What ghastly Huntsman next arose, Well may I guess, but dare not tell; His eye like midnight lightning glows, His steed the swarthy hue of hell. The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, With many a shriek of helpless wo ; Behind him hound, and horse , and horn, And,
Seite 162 - By Eildon-tree, for long nights three, In bloody grave have I lain ; The mass and the death-prayer are said for me, But, lady, they are said in vain. " By the Baron's brand, near Tweed's fair strand, Most foully slain, I fell ; And my restless sprite on the beacon's height. For a space is doom'd to dwell.
Seite 163 - How, Richard, hast thou sped ? And art thou saved, or art thou lost ? " — The vision shook his head ! " Who spilleth life, shall forfeit life; So bid thy lord believe: That lawless love is guilt above, This awful sign receive.
Seite 25 - All turned with disgust from the scene. The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out, And sported his eyes and his temples about, While the spectre addressed Imogine. "Behold me, thou false one! behold me!
Seite 158 - Though the blood-hound be mute, and the rush beneath my foot, And the warder his bugle should not blow, Yet there sleepeth a priest in a chamber to the east, And my footstep he would know.'— " 'O fear not the priest, who sleepeth to the east!

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