The Lady of the Lake: A Poem

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John Ballantyne and Company Edinburgh ; and, 1811 - 433 ページ
 

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204 ページ - 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.
118 ページ - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, 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.
5 ページ - The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade...
203 ページ - Watching their leader's beck and will, All silent there they stood, and still. Like the loose crags, whose threatening mass Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, As if an infant's touch could urge Their headlong passage down the verge, With step and weapon forward flung, Upon the mountain-side they hung.
22 ページ - And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form or lovelier face...
289 ページ - His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck be flung, Then gently drew the glittering band, And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. II * of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending } In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending.
158 ページ - Merry it is in the good greenwood, When the mavis * and merle \ are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, And the hunter's horn is ringing.
210 ページ - He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! Thou add'st but fuel to my hate; — My clansman's blood demands revenge. Not yet prepared? — By heaven, I change My thought, and hold thy valour light As that of some vain carpet knight, Who ill deserved my courteous' care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair.
279 ページ - My hawk is tired of perch and hood, My idle greyhound loathes his food, My horse is weary of his stall, And I am sick of captive thrall. I wish I were as I have been, Hunting the hart in forest green, With bended bow and bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me.
18 ページ - Down to the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, The fragments of an earlier world ; A wildering forest feathered o'er His ruined sides and summit hoar, While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.

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