The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With prefatory notice by W. Sharp, 第 2 巻 |
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11 ページ
... rose Benledi's ridge in air ; Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath , Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith , For twice that day , from shore to shore , The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er . Few were the stragglers , following far , That ...
... rose Benledi's ridge in air ; Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath , Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith , For twice that day , from shore to shore , The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er . Few were the stragglers , following far , That ...
14 ページ
... rose fell in streamers green , And creeping shrubs , of thousand dyes , Waved in the west - wind's summer sighs . XII . Boon nature scatter'd , free and wild , Each plant or flower , the mountain's child , Here eglantine embalm'd the ...
... rose fell in streamers green , And creeping shrubs , of thousand dyes , Waved in the west - wind's summer sighs . XII . Boon nature scatter'd , free and wild , Each plant or flower , the mountain's child , Here eglantine embalm'd the ...
29 ページ
... round his head ; Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest The fever of his troubled breast . In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils , pain , and woes : His steed now flounders in the brake , Now sinks THE LADY OF THE LAKE . 29.
... round his head ; Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest The fever of his troubled breast . In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils , pain , and woes : His steed now flounders in the brake , Now sinks THE LADY OF THE LAKE . 29.
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... rose , and sought the moonshine pure . XXXV . The wild rose , eglantine , and broom , Wafted around their rich perfume : The birch - trees wept in fragrant balm , The aspens slept beneath the calm ; The silver light , with quivering ...
... rose , and sought the moonshine pure . XXXV . The wild rose , eglantine , and broom , Wafted around their rich perfume : The birch - trees wept in fragrant balm , The aspens slept beneath the calm ; The silver light , with quivering ...
34 ページ
... ! Yet tell me , then , the maid who knows , Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose ? - Forgive , forgive , Fidelity ! Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu , And stop and turn 34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE .
... ! Yet tell me , then , the maid who knows , Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose ? - Forgive , forgive , Fidelity ! Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu , And stop and turn 34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE .
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agen Answer'd Argentine band battle beneath blade blood bold bower brand brave breast bride bright broadsword brow Bruce chase cheer Chieftain clan Clan-Alpine's cliffs Colonsay County Guy courser crest cried dark deep deer Douglas dread drew Edith Edward Bruce Ellen fair Fair Lords falchion fear fell fierce Fitz-James gallant gallant band glance glen grace Græme grey hand harp hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hound Isabel isle King knight lady lake lance land Liege light Loch Katrine lone Lord Ronald Lorn loud maid maiden mark'd minstrel Monarch morn mountain ne'er noble o'er pause pibroch plaid pride rock Roderick Dhu Saxon Scotland Scotland's seem'd shallop shore shout sire smile song sought sound spear speed spoke steed stern stranger strife sword tartans tears tell thee thine thou tide tower turn'd Twas vex'd wake warrior wave wild Wildgrave wind yonder
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73 ページ - But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi...
18 ページ - With head upraised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, In listening mood, she seem'd to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand.
29 ページ - Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, While our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveille.
9 ページ - The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high...
154 ページ - 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 That on the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance The sun's retiring beams?
45 ページ - And near, and nearer as they row'd, Distinct the martial ditty flow'd. Song. Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine ! Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line...
28 ページ - No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping.
61 ページ - Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be ! How few, all weak and wither'd of their force, Wait on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course.
122 ページ - Returned the chief his haughty stare, His back against a rock he bore, And firmly placed his foot before : " Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.
79 ページ - The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken curtain for my head, My lullaby the warder's tread, Far, far, from love and thee, Mary; To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, My couch may be my bloody plaid, My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid! It will not waken me, Mary!