The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott

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Carey & Hart, 1842 - 699 ページ
 

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159 ページ - There lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them oer the sea. They hadna been a week from her, « A week but barely ane, When word came to the carline wife That her three sons were gane.
319 ページ - 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-aday!
159 ページ - I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me In earthly flesh and blood! ' It fell about the Martinmas, When nights are lang and mirk, The carline wife's three sons came hame, And their hats were o
41 ページ - Our king has written a braid letter, And sealed it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand.
189 ページ - Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie.' 0 they rade on, and farther on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea. It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern star light, And they waded through red blude to the knee; For a' the blude, that's shed on earth, Rins through the springs o
127 ページ - I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon. For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down.
327 ページ - Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave; Then go — but go alone the while — Then view St David's ruined pile; And, home returning, soothly swear, Was never scene so sad and fair!
42 ページ - Our gude ship sails the morn." " Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm ! " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
189 ページ - And see not ye that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae. " But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see ; For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie.
42 ページ - A' for the sake of their true loves; For them they'll see nae mair. • • O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand ! And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, Wi' their goud kaims in their hair, A ' waiting for their ain dear loves ! For them they'll see nae mair.

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