The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott: BartG. Routledge, 1866 - 740 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 98
Page 5
... Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung . • Holyrood House is situated at the foot of the Canongate , in Edin- burgh , and it was for many years the dwelling - place of the monarchs of Scotland . The abbey was founded in 1128 , and a royal ...
... Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung . • Holyrood House is situated at the foot of the Canongate , in Edin- burgh , and it was for many years the dwelling - place of the monarchs of Scotland . The abbey was founded in 1128 , and a royal ...
Page 16
... twas silence all ; He meetly stabled his steed in stall , And sought the convent's lonely wall . HERE paused the harp ; and with its swell The Master's fire and courage fell : Dejectedly , and low , he bowed , And , gazing timid on the ...
... twas silence all ; He meetly stabled his steed in stall , And sought the convent's lonely wall . HERE paused the harp ; and with its swell The Master's fire and courage fell : Dejectedly , and low , he bowed , And , gazing timid on the ...
Page 23
... twas said to me . XXIII " Now , hie thee hence , " the Father said , ' And , when we are on death - bed laid , O may our dear Ladye , and sweet St. John , Forgive our souls for the deed we have done ! " - The monk returned him to his ...
... twas said to me . XXIII " Now , hie thee hence , " the Father said , ' And , when we are on death - bed laid , O may our dear Ladye , and sweet St. John , Forgive our souls for the deed we have done ! " - The monk returned him to his ...
Page 26
... Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trod , He heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennis - ball by racket tossed , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the ...
... Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trod , He heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennis - ball by racket tossed , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the ...
Page 35
... Twas near the time of curfew bell ; The air was mild , the wind was calm , The stream was smooth , the dew was balm ; E'en the rude watchman , on the tower , Enjoyed and blessed the lovely hour . Far more fair Margaret loved and blessed ...
... Twas near the time of curfew bell ; The air was mild , the wind was calm , The stream was smooth , the dew was balm ; E'en the rude watchman , on the tower , Enjoyed and blessed the lovely hour . Far more fair Margaret loved and blessed ...
Common terms and phrases
ancient Argentine arms band banner bard Barnard Castle battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright brow Bruce CANTO castle chivalry clan courser crest dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread drew earl Edinburgh Annual Ettricke Forest fair falchion fame fate fear fell fierce fight gallant glance glen grace grey hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy honour isle King King Arthur knight lady land Liddesdale light lonely look Lord Marmion Lorn loud maid maiden minstrel monarch Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pale passed pride Risingham rock Roderick Rokeby's Ronald round rude rung Saint Saxon Scotland Scottish seemed shore sire smile song sought sound spear steed stern stood stream sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower train Twas wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid wind
Popular passages
Page 279 - 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. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber.
Page 182 - He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the 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. So boldly he...
Page 3 - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of, Border chivalry; For, well-a-day! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead ; And he, neglected and oppressed, Wished to be with them, and at rest.
Page 312 - Have, then, thy wish!' He whistled shrill, And he was answered from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose Bonnets and spears and bended bows; On right, on left, above, below, Sprung up at once the lurking foe...
Page 67 - This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned 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, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept,...
Page 221 - As in the storm the white sea-mew, Then marked they, dashing broad and far The broken billows of the war, And plumed crests of chieftains brave, Floating like foam upon the wave...
Page 183 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied : Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ; And now am I 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...
Page 315 - Threw down his target and his plaid, And to the Lowland warrior said : — "Bold Saxon! to his promise just, Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, This head of a rebellious clan, Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, Far past Clan- Alpine's outmost guard.
Page 724 - How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber? When the wind waved his garment, how oft didst thou start ? How many long days and long weeks didst thou number, Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart ? And oh ! was it meet that — no requiem read o'er him, No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him, And thou, little guardian, alone stretched before him — Unhonoured the pilgrim from life should depart...
Page 247 - 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.