The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart: Complete in One Volume. With Introductions and Notes..Robert Cadell, St. Andrew Square., 1841 - 823 Seiten |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 100
Seite 11
... Till to her bidding she could bow The viewless forms of air.7 And now she sits in secret bower , In old Lord David's western tower , And listens to a heavy sound , That moans the mossy turrets round . Is it the roar of Teviot's tide ...
... Till to her bidding she could bow The viewless forms of air.7 And now she sits in secret bower , In old Lord David's western tower , And listens to a heavy sound , That moans the mossy turrets round . Is it the roar of Teviot's tide ...
Seite 22
... Till , at the high and haughty sound , Rock , wood , and river , rung around . The blast alarm'd the festal hall , And startled forth the warriors all ; Far downward , in the castle - yard , Full many a torch and cresset glared ; And ...
... Till , at the high and haughty sound , Rock , wood , and river , rung around . The blast alarm'd the festal hall , And startled forth the warriors all ; Far downward , in the castle - yard , Full many a torch and cresset glared ; And ...
Seite 35
... Till ransom'd for a thousand mark , Dark Musgrave , it was long of thee . And , Musgrave , could our fight be tried , And thou wert now alive , as I , No mortal man should us divide , Till one , or both of us , did die : Yet rest thee ...
... Till ransom'd for a thousand mark , Dark Musgrave , it was long of thee . And , Musgrave , could our fight be tried , And thou wert now alive , as I , No mortal man should us divide , Till one , or both of us , did die : Yet rest thee ...
Seite 49
... Till at the last that John of Lorne Perseuvit the hund the sleuth had lorne . " The Bruce , Book vii . A sure way of stopping the dog was to spill blood upon the track , which destroyed the discriminating fineness of his scent . A ...
... Till at the last that John of Lorne Perseuvit the hund the sleuth had lorne . " The Bruce , Book vii . A sure way of stopping the dog was to spill blood upon the track , which destroyed the discriminating fineness of his scent . A ...
Seite 77
... Till burst the boit on yonder shore , Roll'd , blazed , destroy'd , -and was no more . Nor mourn ye less his perish'd worth , Who bade the conqueror go forth , And launch'd that thunderbolt of war On Egypt , Hafnia , Trafalgar ; Who ...
... Till burst the boit on yonder shore , Roll'd , blazed , destroy'd , -and was no more . Nor mourn ye less his perish'd worth , Who bade the conqueror go forth , And launch'd that thunderbolt of war On Egypt , Hafnia , Trafalgar ; Who ...
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
ancient Appendix arms ballad band bard Barnard Castle battle battle of Methven beneath blood bold Border Branksome brave breast brow Bruce called CANTO castle chief clan courser dark death Deloraine Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Ettrick Forest fair falchion fear fell fight fire gallant gave grace hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland hill honour horse Isles James John King knight Lady lake land light Loch Katrine Lorn loud maid Marmion minstrel Minstrelsy morning Mortham moss-troopers mountain ne'er noble Norham Note o'er pass'd poem poetry pride Risingham rock Roderick Rokeby romance round rude Saint scene Scotland Scott Scottish Scottish Border seem'd Sir Walter Scott slain song sought sound spear stanza steed stood sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower Twas warriors wave ween wild
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 198 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Seite 121 - One touch to her hand and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! ' She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
Seite 14 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die...
Seite 184 - Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more ; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Seite 177 - The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade...
Seite 36 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, meet nurse for a poetic child, • land of brown heath and shaggy wood, land of the mountain and the flood, land of my sires! what mortal hand can e'er untie the filial band, that knits me to thy rugged strand!
Seite 184 - No rude sound shall reach* thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.
Seite 138 - And sudden, as he spoke, From the sharp ridges of the hill, All downward to the banks of Till, Was wreathed in sable smoke. Volumed and vast, and rolling far, The cloud enveloped Scotland's war As down the hill they broke ; Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, Announced their march ; their tread alone, At times one warning trumpet blown, At times a stifled hum, Told England, from his...
Seite 140 - 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...
Seite 129 - And carols roar*d with blithesome din ; If unmelodious was the song, It was a hearty note, and strong. Who lists may in their mumming see Traces of ancient mystery ; White shirts supplied the masquerade, And smutted cheeks the visors made ; But...