The Lay of the Last Minstrel: A PoemLongman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, Paternoster-row, and A. Constable and Company Edinburgh, 1805 - Minstrels - 332 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 32
Page 13
... heard the slogan's * deadly yell— Then the Chief of Branksome fell . VIII . Can piety the discord heal , Or staunch the death - feud's enmity ? Can Christian lore , can patriot zeal , Can love of blessed charity ? No ! vainly to each ...
... heard the slogan's * deadly yell— Then the Chief of Branksome fell . VIII . Can piety the discord heal , Or staunch the death - feud's enmity ? Can Christian lore , can patriot zeal , Can love of blessed charity ? No ! vainly to each ...
Page 36
... heard to rave , And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave ; Then go but go alone the while— Then view St David's ruined pile ; And , home returning , soothly swear , Was never scene so sad and fair ! II . Short halt did Deloraine ...
... heard to rave , And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave ; Then go but go alone the while— Then view St David's ruined pile ; And , home returning , soothly swear , Was never scene so sad and fair ! II . Short halt did Deloraine ...
Page 50
... said , as through the aisles they passed , They heard strange noises on the blast ; And through the cloister - galleries small , Which at mid - height thread the chancel wall , Loud sobs , and laughter louder , ran , And 50.
... said , as through the aisles they passed , They heard strange noises on the blast ; And through the cloister - galleries small , Which at mid - height thread the chancel wall , Loud sobs , and laughter louder , ran , And 50.
Page 57
... heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennis - ball by raquet tossed , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee ...
... heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennis - ball by raquet tossed , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee ...
Page 75
... he journeyed on , And deeper in the wood is gone ; For aye the more he sought his way , The farther still he went astray , Until he heard the mountains round Ring to the baying of a hound . XV . And hark ! and hark ! the deep 75.
... he journeyed on , And deeper in the wood is gone ; For aye the more he sought his way , The farther still he went astray , Until he heard the mountains round Ring to the baying of a hound . XV . And hark ! and hark ! the deep 75.
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
ancient arms band bard Baron beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border bower Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave broken lance Buccleuch called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chief clan courser cross Cumberland dæmons Dame dead devyll Douglas dread Duke Earl Earl of Angus Eildon hills English Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle fight hall hand harp Hawick heard highnes horse Howard James Jedburgh king Kirkwall knight Ladye laird lance lands LAST MINSTREL Liddesdale Lord Dacre Margaret Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er never noble o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scot Scotland Scottish Scottish Border shew shulde Sir William slain song spear St Clair steed stone stood sun shines fair sword Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tomb tower Twas tyme Virgilius Walter Scott warden warrior ween wild William of Deloraine wound XXIII
Popular passages
Page 190 - 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...
Page 7 - Where she with all her ladies sate, Perchance he wished his boon denied: For, when to tune his harp he tried, His trembling hand had lost the ease Which marks security to please...
Page 160 - 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, unhonored, and unsung.
Page 137 - 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 180 - Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide, If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle...
Page 3 - 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 125 - CALL it not vain : — they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies : Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed Bard make moan ; That mountains weep in crystal rill ; That flowers in tears of bahn distil; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply ; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.
Page 182 - Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high Saint Clair. There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle...
Page 44 - Some of his skill he taught to me ; And, warrior, I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone...
Page 160 - 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 ! Still, as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill.