The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott: With Introd.And Notes |
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That morn , to many a trumpet - clang , Twisel ! thy rocks ' deep echo rang ; And
many a chief of birth and rank , Saint Helen ! at thy fountain drank . Thy hawthorn
glade , which now we see In spring - tide bloom so lavishly , Had then from many
...
That morn , to many a trumpet - clang , Twisel ! thy rocks ' deep echo rang ; And
many a chief of birth and rank , Saint Helen ! at thy fountain drank . Thy hawthorn
glade , which now we see In spring - tide bloom so lavishly , Had then from many
...
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I. The stag at eve had drunk bis ill , Where danced the moon on Monan's rill , And
deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But when the
sun bis beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's lead , The deep - mouth'd ...
I. The stag at eve had drunk bis ill , Where danced the moon on Monan's rill , And
deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But when the
sun bis beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's lead , The deep - mouth'd ...
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Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread , Or echoes from
the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering
glance TI on the thicket streams , Or do they flaslı on spear and lance , The sun's
...
Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread , Or echoes from
the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering
glance TI on the thicket streams , Or do they flaslı on spear and lance , The sun's
...
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... now we reach the favourite glade , Paled in by copse - wood , cliff , and stone ,
Where never harsher sounds invade , To break affection's whispering tone , Than
the deep breeze that waves the shade , Than the small brooklet's feeble moan .
... now we reach the favourite glade , Paled in by copse - wood , cliff , and stone ,
Where never harsher sounds invade , To break affection's whispering tone , Than
the deep breeze that waves the shade , Than the small brooklet's feeble moan .
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But those for whom I pour Not wild - wood deep , nor mountain gray , Not this
deep dell'that shrouds from day , Could screen from treach'rous cruelty . the Jay ,
THE RETURN TO ULSTER . Once again , but how changed since my
wanderings ...
But those for whom I pour Not wild - wood deep , nor mountain gray , Not this
deep dell'that shrouds from day , Could screen from treach'rous cruelty . the Jay ,
THE RETURN TO ULSTER . Once again , but how changed since my
wanderings ...
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ancient appear arms band battle bear beneath blood bold Border bound brave Bruce called castle cause chief close command dark dead death deep Douglas dread Earl English fair fear fell field fight fire gave give given hall hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hold horse hour Isles James John king knight lady land leave light living look Lord lost loud maid meet morning mountain never noble Note o'er once pass person pride rest rock round Saint scene Scotland Scottish seems seen side soon sound spear stand Stanza stone stood strong sword tale tell thee thou thought Till took tower train true turn voice wave wild wind wood young