The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With life. 8 engr. on steel |
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Page 11
... shades still flitted round ; In Hawick twinkled many a light ; Behind him soon they set in night ; And soon he spurr'd his courser keen Beneath the tower of Hazeldean . XXVI . The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ; -- CANTO I. 11 THE ...
... shades still flitted round ; In Hawick twinkled many a light ; Behind him soon they set in night ; And soon he spurr'd his courser keen Beneath the tower of Hazeldean . XXVI . The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ; -- CANTO I. 11 THE ...
Page 20
... shaded by her locks of gold- Where would you find the peerless fair , With Margaret of Branksome might compare ! XXIX . And now , fair dames , methinks I see You listen to my minstrelsy ; Your waving locks ye backward throw , And ...
... shaded by her locks of gold- Where would you find the peerless fair , With Margaret of Branksome might compare ! XXIX . And now , fair dames , methinks I see You listen to my minstrelsy ; Your waving locks ye backward throw , And ...
Page 34
... shade , Came in , their Chief's defence to aid . There was saddling and mounting in haste , There was pricking o'er moor and lea ; He that was last at the trysting - place Was but lightly held of his gaye ladye . VIII . From fair St ...
... shade , Came in , their Chief's defence to aid . There was saddling and mounting in haste , There was pricking o'er moor and lea ; He that was last at the trysting - place Was but lightly held of his gaye ladye . VIII . From fair St ...
Page 43
... shade , who wails her lot , That love , true love , should be forgot , From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear Upon the gentle Minstrel's bier : The phantom Knight , his glory fled , Mourns o'er the field he heap'd with dead ; Mounts the ...
... shade , who wails her lot , That love , true love , should be forgot , From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear Upon the gentle Minstrel's bier : The phantom Knight , his glory fled , Mourns o'er the field he heap'd with dead ; Mounts the ...
Page 62
... shade involved them all : It was not eddying mist or fog , Drain'd by the sun from fen or bog ; Of no eclipse had sages told ; And yet , as it came on apace , Each one could scarce his neighbour's face , Could scarce his own stretch'd ...
... shade involved them all : It was not eddying mist or fog , Drain'd by the sun from fen or bog ; Of no eclipse had sages told ; And yet , as it came on apace , Each one could scarce his neighbour's face , Could scarce his own stretch'd ...
Common terms and phrases
ancient arms bade band Baron battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand brave breast Brignall brow castle chase clan courser dark deep Deloraine Denzil Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Ettrick Forest fair fear fell fight fire gallant glance Græme grey Guenever hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven holy horse hound King knight lady land light Loch Katrine lonely Lord Marmion loud maid mark'd Matilda minstrel morning Mortham mountain ne'er noble o'er pale pass'd pride proud Redmond Risingham Roderick Rokeby Rokeby's round rung Saint scarce Scotland Scottish seem'd shade show'd Sir Launcelot sire smiled song sought soul sound spear steed stern stood stream sword tale Tamworth tell thee thine Thomas Gray THOMAS THE RHYMER thou tide tower turn'd Twas voice wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid wind wood youth
Popular passages
Page 141 - 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 bridemaidens whispered, '"Twere better, by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar...
Page 54 - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well ; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Page 47 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind. In body and in soul can bind.
Page 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...
Page 209 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 140 - 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 179 - 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 65 - That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day ? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll ; When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead...
Page 75 - DAY set on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, And Cheviot's mountains lone : The battled towers, the donjon keep, The loophole grates, where captives weep, The flanking walls that round it sweep, In yellow lustre shone.
Page 349 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green. — No more of me you knew, My love ! No more of me you knew. ' This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain ; But she shall bloom in winter snow Ere we two meet again.