The Complete Poetical Works of Sir Walter ScottThomas Y. Crowell, 1894 - Всего страниц: 770 |
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Стр. 12
... breast , It died on the side of the hill . But round Lord David's tower The sound still floated near ; For it rung in the Ladye's bower , And it rung in the Ladye's ear . She raised her stately head , And her heart throbb'd high with ...
... breast , It died on the side of the hill . But round Lord David's tower The sound still floated near ; For it rung in the Ladye's bower , And it rung in the Ladye's ear . She raised her stately head , And her heart throbb'd high with ...
Стр. 15
... breast , in belt of iron pent , With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn ; For threescore years , in penance spent , My knees those flinty stones have worn : Yet all too little to atone For knowing what should ne'er be known . Would'st ...
... breast , in belt of iron pent , With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn ; For threescore years , in penance spent , My knees those flinty stones have worn : Yet all too little to atone For knowing what should ne'er be known . Would'st ...
Стр. 18
... breast , And his joints , with nerves of iron twined , Shook , like the aspen leaves in wind . Full fain was he when the dawn of day Began to brighten Cheviot gray ; He joy'd to see the cheerful light , And he said Ave Mary as well as ...
... breast , And his joints , with nerves of iron twined , Shook , like the aspen leaves in wind . Full fain was he when the dawn of day Began to brighten Cheviot gray ; He joy'd to see the cheerful light , And he said Ave Mary as well as ...
Стр. 19
... breast the mountain rose . And lovelier than the rose so red , Yet paler than the violet pale , She early left her sleepless bed , The fairest maid of Teviotdale . XXVI . Why does fair Margaret so early awake ? And don her kirtle so ...
... breast the mountain rose . And lovelier than the rose so red , Yet paler than the violet pale , She early left her sleepless bed , The fairest maid of Teviotdale . XXVI . Why does fair Margaret so early awake ? And don her kirtle so ...
Стр. 29
... breast , Is broader than a raven's nest : Thou , Whitslade , shalt teach him his wea- pon to wield , And o'er him hold his father's shield . " XIV . Well may you think , the wily page Cared not to face the Ladye sage . He counterfeited ...
... breast , Is broader than a raven's nest : Thou , Whitslade , shalt teach him his wea- pon to wield , And o'er him hold his father's shield . " XIV . Well may you think , the wily page Cared not to face the Ladye sage . He counterfeited ...
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Abbess ancient arms band battle beneath blood blood-hound bold Border bower brand Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave breast bright broadsword brow CANTO castle Chief clan Clare courser crest Dame dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread e'er Ellen Eskdale Ettrick Forest fair falchion fear fell Fitz-Eustace gallant glance glen grace Græme gray hall hand harp hast hear heard heart heaven hill holy King knight Lady Ladye lake lance land Liddesdale Lindisfarne Loch Katrine lonely look'd Lord Marmion loud maid mark'd merry Mickledale Minstrel moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pass'd poem pride proud rest ride rode Roderick rose round rude rung Saint Saint Hilda scarce Scotland Scotland's Scott Scottish seem'd show'd sire song sound spear spoke squire steed stood sword tale tell thee thine thou thought tide toil tower Twas warrior wave WAVERLEY NOVELS ween wild
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Стр. 97 - mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran : There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? XIII.
Стр. 96 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied : Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ; And now am I 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...
Стр. 40 - 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!
Стр. 96 - 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...
Стр. 131 - 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.
Стр. 115 - King James did rushing come. — Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, Until at weapon-point they close. — They close, in clouds of smoke and dust, With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ; And such a yell was there, Of sudden and portentous birth, As if men fought upon the earth, And...
Стр. 128 - With head upraised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, In listening mood, she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand.
Стр. 34 - 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 balm 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.
Стр. 9 - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old ; His withered cheek, and tresses gray. 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...
Стр. 73 - Glared through the window's rusty bars, And ever, by the winter hearth, Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms; Of patriot battles, won of old By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold ; Of later fields of feud and fight, When, pouring from their Highland height, The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Had swept the scarlet ranks away. While...