The lay of the last minstrel. Illustr. ed |
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Стр. viii
... Fair Margaret , from the turret head , Heard , far below , the coursers ' tread , While loud the harness rang . VIGNETTE - J. W. WRIGHT . - 75 Full fast the urchin ran and laughed , But faster still a cloth - yard shaft Whistled from ...
... Fair Margaret , from the turret head , Heard , far below , the coursers ' tread , While loud the harness rang . VIGNETTE - J. W. WRIGHT . - 75 Full fast the urchin ran and laughed , But faster still a cloth - yard shaft Whistled from ...
Стр. ix
... Fair Margaret on her palfrey came , * * * * The lordly Angus by her side , In courtesy to cheer her tried . Canto v . , Stanza xvii . HALL AT BRANKSOME · J. H. NIXON - - 118 Nine - and - twenty knights of fame , Hung their shields in ...
... Fair Margaret on her palfrey came , * * * * The lordly Angus by her side , In courtesy to cheer her tried . Canto v . , Stanza xvii . HALL AT BRANKSOME · J. H. NIXON - - 118 Nine - and - twenty knights of fame , Hung their shields in ...
Стр. 6
... fair , Till to her bidding she could bow The viewless forms of air . And now she sits in secret bower , In old Lord David's western tower , And listens to a heavy sound , That moans the mossy turrets round . Is it the roar of Teviot's ...
... fair , Till to her bidding she could bow The viewless forms of air . And now she sits in secret bower , In old Lord David's western tower , And listens to a heavy sound , That moans the mossy turrets round . Is it the roar of Teviot's ...
Стр. 15
... fair Tweedside ; And in Melrose's holy pile Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle . Greet the Father well from me ; Say , that the fated hour is come , And to - night he shall watch with thee , To win the treasure of the tomb : For ...
... fair Tweedside ; And in Melrose's holy pile Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle . Greet the Father well from me ; Say , that the fated hour is come , And to - night he shall watch with thee , To win the treasure of the tomb : For ...
Стр. 19
... fair domain , Where Aill , from mountains freed , Down from the lakes did raving come ; Each wave was crested with tawny foam , Like the mane of a chestnut steed . In vain ! no torrent , deep or broad , Might bar the bold moss ...
... fair domain , Where Aill , from mountains freed , Down from the lakes did raving come ; Each wave was crested with tawny foam , Like the mane of a chestnut steed . In vain ! no torrent , deep or broad , Might bar the bold moss ...
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ancient Angus arms band bard Baron Beattisons beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border bower Branksome Hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chiefs Clair clan courser crest Cumberland dæmons Dame dead death Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Eskdale Ettrick Forest Ettricke fair on Carlisle fell fight Fleet Street hand harp Hawick head heard heart highnes horse Howard king Kirkwall knight knight of Liddesdale Ladye Ladye's laird lances lands Liddesdale Lord Cranstoun Lord Dacre loud Margaret Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scotland Scots Scott Scottish shew shulde Sir William slain song spear Stanza Stanza VI.-page steed stone stood sword ta'en Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower tyme Virgilius Walter warriors wave ween wild William of Deloraine wound XIII.-page
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Стр. 170 - 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 ! Oh ! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away ! HUSH'D is the harp — the Minstrel...
Стр. 141 - 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. xi - Was carried by an orphan boy : 'I'hc 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.
Стр. xxii - Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright, Neither by day, nor yet by night ; They lay down to rest, With corslet laced...
Стр. 141 - 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...
Стр. 164 - There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle ; Each one the holy vault doth hold — But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! And each St Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell ; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
Стр. xiv - Though stiff his hands, his voice though weak, He thought even yet, the sooth to speak. That if she loved the harp to hear, He could make music to her ear.
Стр. 204 - O the monks of Melrose made gude kale * On Fridays when they fasted ; They wanted neither beef nor ale, As long as their neighbour's lasted.
Стр. 160 - O'er Roslin all that dreary night, A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moon-beam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.
Стр. 160 - 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.