Marmion |
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Стр. 26
... fire a noble salvo - shot : Lord Marmion waits below . " - Then to the Castle's lower ward Sped forty yeomen tall , The iron - studded gates unbarred , Raised the portcullis ' ponderous guard , The lofty palisade unsparred , And let the ...
... fire a noble salvo - shot : Lord Marmion waits below . " - Then to the Castle's lower ward Sped forty yeomen tall , The iron - studded gates unbarred , Raised the portcullis ' ponderous guard , The lofty palisade unsparred , And let the ...
Стр. 27
... fire , Shewed spirit proud , and prompt to ire ; Yet lines of thought upon his cheek , Did deep design and counsel speak . His forehead , by his casque worn bare , His thick moustache , and curly hair , Coal - black , and grizzled here ...
... fire , Shewed spirit proud , and prompt to ire ; Yet lines of thought upon his cheek , Did deep design and counsel speak . His forehead , by his casque worn bare , His thick moustache , and curly hair , Coal - black , and grizzled here ...
Стр. 70
... bosoms on the surging wave : Then , when against the driving hail No longer might my plaid avail , Back to my lonely home retire , And light my lamp , and trim my fire : There ponder o'er some mystic lay , Till the wild 70 INTRODUCTION.
... bosoms on the surging wave : Then , when against the driving hail No longer might my plaid avail , Back to my lonely home retire , And light my lamp , and trim my fire : There ponder o'er some mystic lay , Till the wild 70 INTRODUCTION.
Стр. 90
... fire ; And all , in turn , essayed to paint The rival merits of their saint , A theme that ne'er can tire A holy maid ; for , be it known , That their saint's honour is their own . XIII . Then Whitby's nuns exulting told , How to their ...
... fire ; And all , in turn , essayed to paint The rival merits of their saint , A theme that ne'er can tire A holy maid ; for , be it known , That their saint's honour is their own . XIII . Then Whitby's nuns exulting told , How to their ...
Стр. 94
... dim form , Seen but , and heard , when gathering storm , And night were closing round . But this , as tale of idle fame , The nuns of Lindisfarn disclaim . XVII . While round the fire such legends go Far 94 CANTO II . MARMION .
... dim form , Seen but , and heard , when gathering storm , And night were closing round . But this , as tale of idle fame , The nuns of Lindisfarn disclaim . XVII . While round the fire such legends go Far 94 CANTO II . MARMION .
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Abbess ancient Angus arms array band banner battle beneath blast Blount bold Border brand called CANTO castle Clare cross Cuthbert dame dark deep Douglas Earl Earl of Angus Earl of Mar Edinburgh England English Ettricke Forest Eustace fair fear fell fight Fitz-Eustace Flodden foes gallant grace grave Guenever hall hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Hilda hill holy Holy Island honoured horse host James IV King James king's knight Lady land light Lindesay Lindisfarn look Lord Marmion loud maid merry minstrel monarch monks mountain ne'er noble Norham Norham Castle Northumberland Note nought o'er Palmer passed Perchance Pitscottie plain pray rest rode round royal rude scarce Scotland Scottish shew shield Sir Launcelot spear squire steed stood summons Surrey sword tale Tamworth Tantallon tell thee Thomas Gray thou thought tide tower Twas Whitby Whitby's wild Wilton
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Стр. 260 - 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. 128 - To him the venerable Priest, Our frequent and familiar guest, Whose life and manners well could paint Alike the student and the saint ; Alas ! whose speech too oft I broke With gambol rude and timeless joke : For I was wayward, bold, and wild, A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child ; But half a plague, and half a jest, Was still endured, beloved, caress'd.
Стр. 339 - Horse ! horse !" the Douglas cried, " and chase !* But soon he reined his fury's pace : " A royal messenger he came, Though most unworthy of the name. — A letter forged ! Saint Jude to speed! Did ever knight so foul a deed ! At first in heart it liked me ill, When the King praised his clerkly skill. Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line : So swore I, and I swear it still, Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.
Стр. 259 - 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. 362 - 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...
Стр. 258 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broad-sword he weapons had none ; He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Стр. 364 - Or injured Constance, bathes my head !" Then, as remembrance rose,— " Speak not to me of shrift or prayer ! I must redress her woes. Short space, few words, are mine to spare; Forgive and listen, gentle Clare!"— " Alas! " she said, " the while,— 0 think of your immortal weal ! In vain for Constance is your zeal; She died at Holy Isle.
Стр. 338 - I tell thee, thou'rt defied! And if thou saidst I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied...
Стр. 337 - Douglas' head ! And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, He, who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : And, Douglas, more I tell thee here...
Стр. 354 - But see ! look up — on Flodden bent The Scottish foe has fired his tent." And sudden, as he spoke, From the sharp ridges of the hill,* All downward to the banks of Till, Was wreathed in sable smoke. Volumed...