The Lay of the Last Minstrel, a PoemJoseph Cushing; and E. Sargeant, New York, 1811 - 232 ページ |
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15 ページ
... arms had stood , When Mathouse burn to Melrose ran All purple with their blood ; And well she knew , her mother dread , Before lord Cranstoun she should wed , Would see her on her dying bed . XI Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her father ...
... arms had stood , When Mathouse burn to Melrose ran All purple with their blood ; And well she knew , her mother dread , Before lord Cranstoun she should wed , Would see her on her dying bed . XI Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her father ...
19 ページ
... arms grown old , Share in his frolic gambols bore , Albeit their hearts , of rugged mould , Were stubborn as the steel they wore . For the gray warriors prophesied , How the brave boy , in future war , Should tame the unicorn's pride ...
... arms grown old , Share in his frolic gambols bore , Albeit their hearts , of rugged mould , Were stubborn as the steel they wore . For the gray warriors prophesied , How the brave boy , in future war , Should tame the unicorn's pride ...
32 ページ
... arms appear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear . XIII . " In these far climes , it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ; A wizard of such dreaded fame , That when , in Salamanca's cave , Him listed his magic wand ...
... arms appear , And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear . XIII . " In these far climes , it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ; A wizard of such dreaded fame , That when , in Salamanca's cave , Him listed his magic wand ...
41 ページ
... Little he ate , and less he spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock : And oft apart his arms he tossed , And often muttered , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But € 2 Canto 2. LAST MINSTREL . 41.
... Little he ate , and less he spoke , Nor mingled with the menial flock : And oft apart his arms he tossed , And often muttered , " Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But € 2 Canto 2. LAST MINSTREL . 41.
43 ページ
... arm on high , And signs to the lovers to part and fly ; No time was then to vow or sigh . Fair Margaret , through the hazel grove , Flew like the startled cushat dove : * The dwarf the stirrup held and rein ; Vaulted the knight on his ...
... arm on high , And signs to the lovers to part and fly ; No time was then to vow or sigh . Fair Margaret , through the hazel grove , Flew like the startled cushat dove : * The dwarf the stirrup held and rein ; Vaulted the knight on his ...
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ancient arms band bard baron Beattisons beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border Branksome Branksome hall Branksome's Buccleuch bugle called CANTO castle chapel chief Clair clan courser crest cross Cumberland dæmons Dame dead Douglas dread Duke Earl Earl of Angus Earl of Orkney Eildon Hills English Eskdale Ettricke Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle Fawdon fight fire Froissart gallant hall hand harp head heard heart highnes horse James Jedburgh king Kirkwall knight Ladye laird of Buccleuch lances lands Liddesdale lord Dacre loud Melrose Melrose Abbey Michael Scott MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave ne'er noble NOTE o'er ride rode round Saint sayd Scotland Scots Scottish Scottish Border shulde Sir William slain song spear steed stone stood sun shines fair sword Teviot's thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower twixt Virgilius Walter warden warrior ween wild William of Deloraine word wound
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121 ページ - 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...
102 ページ - 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! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand!
1 ページ - Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had called his harmless art a crime. A wandering Harper, scorned and poor, He begged his bread from door to door, And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, The harp a king had loved to hear.
39 ページ - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
89 ページ - 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.
102 ページ - ... land of my sires! what mortal hand can e'er untie the filial band, that knits me to thy rugged strand! still, as I view each well-known scene, think what is now, and what hath been, seems as to me, of all bereft, sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; and thus I love them better still even in extremity of ill.
114 ページ - O listen, listen, ladies gay ! No haughty feat of arms I tell ; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. — " Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew ! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay ! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. " The blackening wave is edged with white : To inch* and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forebode...
26 ページ - The moon on the east oriel shone Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined : Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand 'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand In many a freakish knot had twined, Then framed a spell when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
2 ページ - Duchess marked his weary pace, His timid mien, and reverend face, And bade her page the menials tell That they should tend the old man well: For she had known adversity, Though born in such a high degree; In pride of power, in beauty's bloom, Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb!
81 ページ - 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...