The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With memoir of the author |
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Page xi
... scarce to be , until the Philistines should be upon him . All went well for some time . At length the publisher smote the printer ; and the printer smote the poet . What though the blow resounded louder all the sweetness of the lyre ...
... scarce to be , until the Philistines should be upon him . All went well for some time . At length the publisher smote the printer ; and the printer smote the poet . What though the blow resounded louder all the sweetness of the lyre ...
Page 13
... Scarce half the charger's neck was seen ; For he was barded * from counter to tail , And the rider was armed complete in mail ; Never heavier man and horse Stemmed a midnight torrent's force . The warrior's very plume , I say , Was ...
... Scarce half the charger's neck was seen ; For he was barded * from counter to tail , And the rider was armed complete in mail ; Never heavier man and horse Stemmed a midnight torrent's force . The warrior's very plume , I say , Was ...
Page 21
... scarce told , scarce hid , Lent to her cheek a livelier red ; When the half - sigh her swelling breast Against the silken ribband prest ; When her blue eyes their secret told , Though shaded by her locks of gold- Where would you find ...
... scarce told , scarce hid , Lent to her cheek a livelier red ; When the half - sigh her swelling breast Against the silken ribband prest ; When her blue eyes their secret told , Though shaded by her locks of gold- Where would you find ...
Page 22
... scarce an earthly man , If the tales were true , that of him ran Through all the Border , far and near . ' Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trod , He heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ...
... scarce an earthly man , If the tales were true , that of him ran Through all the Border , far and near . ' Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trod , He heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ...
Page 24
... scarce his helmet could he don , When downward from the shady hill A stately knight came pricking on . That warrior's steed , so dapple - grey , Was dark with sweat , and splashed with clay ; His armour red with many a stain : He seemed ...
... scarce his helmet could he don , When downward from the shady hill A stately knight came pricking on . That warrior's steed , so dapple - grey , Was dark with sweat , and splashed with clay ; His armour red with many a stain : He seemed ...
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Common terms and phrases
ancient Argentine arms bade band banner battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright brow Bruce castle cheer Chieftain clan courser crest Dæmon dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread drew Edinburgh Annual Ettricke Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fierce fight fire gallant glance glen grace grey Grey Brother hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy honoured isle King knight lady land light lonely look Lord Marmion Lorn loud maid minstrel monarch Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pale pride Redmond Risingham Roderick Rokeby's Ronald round rude rung Saint Saint Hilda Saxon scarce Scotland Scottish shore shout sire song sought soul sound spear steed stern stood strain strife sword tale tell thee thine thou tide toil tower Twas twixt wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid wind youth
Popular passages
Page 154 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Page 56 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, 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...
Page 154 - 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,
Page 154 - I long wooed 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.
Page 12 - 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 240 - 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.
Page 181 - England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your...
Page 212 - 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.
Page 194 - While many a broken band Disordered through her currents dash, To gain the Scottish land ; To town and tower, to down and dale, To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, And raise the universal wail. Tradition, legend, tune, and song Shall many an age that wail prolong ; Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife and carnage drear Of Flodden's fatal field. Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear And broken was her shield ! xxxv.
Page 64 - And glimmered all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St Clair.