The poetical works of sir Walter ScottW.P. Nimmo, 1872 - Всего страниц: 665 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 1 – 5 из 60
Стр. 35
... thought supplied ; And , while his harp responsive rung , ' Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung . CANTO FIRST . 1 . THE feast was over in. ' WHY WATCH THESE WARRIORS , ARM'D , BY NIGHT ? OLD TOWER OF BRANKSOME . INTRODUCTION . 38 35.
... thought supplied ; And , while his harp responsive rung , ' Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung . CANTO FIRST . 1 . THE feast was over in. ' WHY WATCH THESE WARRIORS , ARM'D , BY NIGHT ? OLD TOWER OF BRANKSOME . INTRODUCTION . 38 35.
Стр. 44
... twas silence all ; He meetly stabled his steed in stall , And sought the convent's lonely wall . 10 Here paused the harp ; and with its swell The Master's fire and courage fell ; Dejectedly , and low , he bow'd , And , gazing timid on ...
... twas silence all ; He meetly stabled his steed in stall , And sought the convent's lonely wall . 10 Here paused the harp ; and with its swell The Master's fire and courage fell ; Dejectedly , and low , he bow'd , And , gazing timid on ...
Стр. 50
... 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 return'd him to his cell ...
... 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 return'd him to his cell ...
Стр. 52
... Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trode , He heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tenis - ball by racket toss'd , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the ...
... Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trode , He heard a voice cry , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tenis - ball by racket toss'd , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the ...
Стр. 60
... 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 , Enjoy'd and bless'd the lovely hour . Far more fair Margaret loved and bless'd ...
... 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 , Enjoy'd and bless'd the lovely hour . Far more fair Margaret loved and bless'd ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ancient Argentine arms band battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright broadsword brow Bruce CANTO castle Chieftain chivalry courser dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread Earl Ettrick Forest fair falchion fame fate fear fell fierce fight fire gallant gave glance grace grey hall hand harp hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy isle King knight Lady lake land Liddesdale light Lindisfarne Loch Katrine lone Lord Marmion Lorn loud maid maiden mark'd minstrel Monarch Mortham mountain ne'er noble NOTE o'er pass'd poem pride Redmond Risingham rock Roderick Rokeby Rokeby's round rude rung Saint Scotland Scottish seem'd shore show'd silvan sire Somerled song sought sound spear steed stern stood strife sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower turn'd Twas twixt vex'd wake warriors wave ween wild Wilfrid wind
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 211 - 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 ! — Scarce were the piteous accents said, When, with the Baron's casque, the maid To the nigh streamlet ran.
Стр. 88 - 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.
Стр. 183 - 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 bride-maidens whispered, '"Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Стр. 206 - But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — " My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still Be open, at my Sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My 'castles are my King's alone, From turret to foundation-stone — The hand of Douglas is his own ; • And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp.
Стр. 81 - 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.
Стр. 96 - There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle ; Each one the holy vault doth hold But...
Стр. 127 - know'st it well — nor fen nor sedge Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge ; Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At once upon the level brink, And just a trace of silver sand Marks where the water meets the land. Far in the mirror, bright and blue, Each hill's huge outline you may view...
Стр. 32 - Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had call'd his harmless art a crime. A wandering Harper, scorn'd and poor, He begg'd his bread from door to door. And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, The harp, a king had loved to hear.
Стр. 264 - 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...
Стр. 257 - The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees; And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy ; The mountain-shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest ; In bright uncertainty they lie, Like future joys to Fancy's eye.