The Poetical Works of Walter Scott, Esq, Volume 1James Eastburn & Company, 1819 |
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Pagina 9
... lost the ease , Which marks security to please ; And scenes , long past , of joy and pain , Came wildering o'er his aged brain— He tried to tune his harp in vain . The pitying Dutchess praised its chime , And gave him heart , and gave ...
... lost the ease , Which marks security to please ; And scenes , long past , of joy and pain , Came wildering o'er his aged brain— He tried to tune his harp in vain . The pitying Dutchess praised its chime , And gave him heart , and gave ...
Pagina 10
... lost ; Each blank , in faithless memory void , The poet's glowing thought supplied ; And , while his harp responsive rung , " Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung . THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL . CANTO FIRST . 10 INTRODUCTION .
... lost ; Each blank , in faithless memory void , The poet's glowing thought supplied ; And , while his harp responsive rung , " Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung . THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL . CANTO FIRST . 10 INTRODUCTION .
Pagina 43
... lost the enchanting strain ; Its lightness would my age reprove : My hairs are gray , my limbs are old , My heart is dead , my veins are cold : I may not , must not , sing of love . XXXI . Beneath an oak , mossed o'er by eld , The ...
... lost the enchanting strain ; Its lightness would my age reprove : My hairs are gray , my limbs are old , My heart is dead , my veins are cold : I may not , must not , sing of love . XXXI . Beneath an oak , mossed o'er by eld , The ...
Pagina 44
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennisball by raquet tost , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee . Lord Cranstoun was some ...
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennisball by raquet tost , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee . Lord Cranstoun was some ...
Pagina 44
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennisball by raquet tost , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee . Lord Cranstoun was some ...
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennisball by raquet tost , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee . Lord Cranstoun was some ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
ancient arms band banner Bard baron beneath betwixt Bewcastle blaze blood blood-hound Border bower Branksome Branksome hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch bugle called CANTO castle chapel Chief of Kintail Clair clan courser Cranstoun crest Cumberland dæmons Dame dark dead death Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus Eildon Hills English Ettricke Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle fame Fawdon fight forest gallant hall hand harp head hear heard heart highnes hill horse Howard Jedburgh king Kintail Kirkwall knight Ladye laird lance lands LAST MINSTREL loud maid Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble Note o'er ride rode round Saint Cloud Scotland Scots Scottish Scottish Border shulde Sir William slain song spear steed stone stood sword tale Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower Twas Virgilius Walter Scott warrior wave wild William of Deloraine wound
Populaire passages
Pagina 121 - 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.
Pagina 142 - That day of wrath, .that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day...
Pagina 105 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Pagina 121 - Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand...
Pagina 29 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; When the cold light's uncertain shower 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...
Pagina 34 - The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand, "Twixt poplars straight, the osier wand, In many a freakish knot, had twined ; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
Pagina 7 - Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had called his harmless art a crime. A wandering Harper, scorned and poor, He begged his bread from door to door, And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, The harp a king had loved to hear.
Pagina 277 - And lovers' ears in hearing ; And love, in life's extremity, Can lend an hour of cheering. Disease had been in Mary's bower And slow decay from mourning, Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower To watch her Love's returning.
Pagina 282 - Diamonds on the brake are gleaming; And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green; Now we come to chant our lay, "Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Pagina 122 - Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand!