The Lady of the Lake: A PoemDaved Bogue, 1838 |
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Alpine's ancient arms band bard battle blade blood bold brand Brantome brave breast brow called CANTO castle chase chief Chieftain clan Clan-Alpine's dark death deep deer desperate Douglas dread drew Earl of Angus Ellen fair fairy fear Fiery Cross Fitz-James Gael gallant glance glen grace Græme grey hand harp head hear heard heart heath Highland hill hounds isle James John Gunn King king's knight lady lake land Lord loud Lowland Macgregor maid maiden Malcolm Malise mark'd merry Minstrel morning mountain ne'er noble NOTE o'er pass Perthshire pibroch plaid pride race rock Roderick Dhu round Rowland Yorke Saint Modan Saxon Scotland Scottish seem'd shallop side sire Skofnung snood song sound spear speed stag steed Stirling Stirling Castle stood stranger sudden sway sword thee thine thou tide turn'd Twas Urisk wake warrior wave Western Isles wild yonder
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Стр. 28 - No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping.
Стр. 29 - Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, While our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveille.
Стр. 16 - And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form or lovelier face...
Стр. 19 - On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed its signet sage, Yet had not quenched the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth ; Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to dare, The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, Of hasty love or headlong ire.
Стр. 204 - tis silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well ! END OF CANTO SIXTH.
Стр. 11 - Where glistening streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue ; So wondrous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream.
Стр. 141 - The wind's last breath had toss'd in air Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair; The next but swept a lone hill-side, Where heath and fern were waving wide: The sun's last glance was glinted back, From spear and glaive, from targe and jack; The next, all unreflected, shone On bracken green and cold grey stone.
Стр. 83 - ... 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 Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain Thou art gone, and for ever ! XVII.
Стр. 110 - twas all for thy locks so bright, And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, That on the night of our luckless flight, Thy brother bold I slew. " Now must I teach to hew the beech...
Стр. 130 - Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu A clansman born, a kinsman true; Each word against his honor spoke, Demands of me avenging stroke ; Yet more, — upon thy fate, 'tis said, A mighty augury is laid. It rests with me to wind my horn, — Thou art with numbers overborne ; It rests with me, here, brand to brand, Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : But...