The Poetical WorksFrowde, 1909 - 970 ページ |
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... true , Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch . IV . Ten of them were sheath'd in steel , With belted sword , and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright , Neither by day , nor yet by night : They lay down to rest , With corslet ...
... true , Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch . IV . Ten of them were sheath'd in steel , With belted sword , and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright , Neither by day , nor yet by night : They lay down to rest , With corslet ...
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... true knight . XXVIII . The Knight and Ladye fair are met , And under the hawthorn's boughs are set . A fairer pair were never seen To meet beneath the hawthorn green . He was stately , and young , and tall ; Dreaded in battle , and lov ...
... true knight . XXVIII . The Knight and Ladye fair are met , And under the hawthorn's boughs are set . A fairer pair were never seen To meet beneath the hawthorn green . He was stately , and young , and tall ; Dreaded in battle , and lov ...
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... true that of him ran Through all the Border , far and near . ' Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trod , He heard a voice cry , ' Lost ! lost ! lost ! ' And , like tennis - ball by racket ...
... true that of him ran Through all the Border , far and near . ' Twas said , when the Baron a - hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens , but rarely trod , He heard a voice cry , ' Lost ! lost ! lost ! ' And , like tennis - ball by racket ...
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... true , Into a thousand flinders flew . But Cranstoun's lance , of more avail , Pierc'd through , like silk , the Bor- derer's mail ; Through shield , and jack , and acton , past , Deep in his bosom broke at last.- Still sate the warrior ...
... true , Into a thousand flinders flew . But Cranstoun's lance , of more avail , Pierc'd through , like silk , the Bor- derer's mail ; Through shield , and jack , and acton , past , Deep in his bosom broke at last.- Still sate the warrior ...
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... true and stout ; Ye need not send to Liddesdale , For when they see the blazing bale , Elliots and Armstrongs never fail . Ride , Alton , ride , for death and life ! And warn the Warder of the strife . Where urns of mighty chiefs lie ...
... true and stout ; Ye need not send to Liddesdale , For when they see the blazing bale , Elliots and Armstrongs never fail . Ride , Alton , ride , for death and life ! And warn the Warder of the strife . Where urns of mighty chiefs lie ...
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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.