The Poetical WorksFrowde, 1909 - 970 ページ |
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4 ページ
... o'er her warrior's bloody bier The Ladye dropp'd nor flower nor tear ! Vengeance , deep - brooding o'er the slain , Had lock'd the source of softer woe ; And burning pride and high disdain Forbade the rising tear to flow ; Until , amid ...
... o'er her warrior's bloody bier The Ladye dropp'd nor flower nor tear ! Vengeance , deep - brooding o'er the slain , Had lock'd the source of softer woe ; And burning pride and high disdain Forbade the rising tear to flow ; Until , amid ...
11 ページ
... o'er , Again the volume to restore . I buried him on St. Michael's night , When the bell toll'd one , and the moon was bright , And I dug his chamber among the dead , When the floor of the chancel was stained red , That his patron's ...
... o'er , Again the volume to restore . I buried him on St. Michael's night , When the bell toll'd one , and the moon was bright , And I dug his chamber among the dead , When the floor of the chancel was stained red , That his patron's ...
25 ページ
... o'er Border sod To siege or rescue never rode . The Ladye mark'd the aids come in , And high her heart of pride arose : She bade her youthful son attend , That he might know his father's friend , And learn to face his foes . ' The boy ...
... o'er Border sod To siege or rescue never rode . The Ladye mark'd the aids come in , And high her heart of pride arose : She bade her youthful son attend , That he might know his father's friend , And learn to face his foes . ' The boy ...
26 ページ
... o'er Branksome's towers and wood ; And martial murmurs , from below , Proclaim'd the approaching southern foe . Through the dark wood , in mingled tone , Were Border pipes and bugles blown ; The coursers ' neighing he could ken , A ...
... o'er Branksome's towers and wood ; And martial murmurs , from below , Proclaim'd the approaching southern foe . Through the dark wood , in mingled tone , Were Border pipes and bugles blown ; The coursers ' neighing he could ken , A ...
30 ページ
... o'er his rival's grave . XXXV . Why should I tell the rigid doom That dragg'd my master to his tomb ; How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair , Wept till their eyes were dead and dim , And wrung their hands for love of him , Who died at ...
... o'er his rival's grave . XXXV . Why should I tell the rigid doom That dragg'd my master to his tomb ; How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair , Wept till their eyes were dead and dim , And wrung their hands for love of him , Who died at ...
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ancient arms band bard Barnard Castle battle battle of Methven beneath blood blood-hound bold Border bower brave breast brow Bruce called castle chief clan courser dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Ettrick Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fight fire gallant gave grace grey hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland hill holy horse hound Isles James John King knight lady land light Loch Katrine Lord Marmion Lorn loud maid mark'd minstrel monarch Mortham moss-troopers mountain ne'er noble Norham NOTE o'er pass'd pride Risingham rock Rokeby round rude Saint Scotland Scott Scottish Scottish Border seem'd show'd slain song sought sound spear steed stern stone stood sword tale tell thee thine Thomas the Rhymer thou tide tower turn'd Twas warriors wave ween wild
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39 ページ - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
142 ページ - River where ford there was none : But ere he alighted at Netherby gate The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
143 ページ - The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — " Now tread we a measure !
142 ページ - O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" "I long woo'd 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.
160 ページ - I tell thee, thou'rt defied ! And if thou said'st, I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied...
143 ページ - One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear. When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur: They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
143 ページ - 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?
142 ページ - Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 'O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar...
768 ページ - Proud Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, Singing so rarely. " 'Tell me, thou bonny bird, When shall I marry me?' 'When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye.' * * * " 'Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?' 'The gray-headed sexton That delves the grave duly.' * * * "The glow-worm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady.
31 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 round his grave.