The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott |
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Página 4
... o'er the And of his skill , as bards avow , Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle . Behind. When the streets of high Dunedin Saw lances gleam , and falchions redden , And heard the slogan's deadly yell- Then the Chief of Branksome fell ...
... o'er the And of his skill , as bards avow , Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle . Behind. When the streets of high Dunedin Saw lances gleam , and falchions redden , And heard the slogan's deadly yell- Then the Chief of Branksome fell ...
Página 19
... o'er and o'cr . William of Deloraine , in trance , Whene'er she turn'd it round and round , Twisted as if she gall'd his wound . Then to her maidens she did say That he should be whole man and sound Within the course of a night and day ...
... o'er and o'cr . William of Deloraine , in trance , Whene'er she turn'd it round and round , Twisted as if she gall'd his wound . Then to her maidens she did say That he should be whole man and sound Within the course of a night and day ...
Página 26
... 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 ...
Página 36
... o'er ! Richard of Musgrave breathes no more . XXIV . As if exhausted in the fight , Or musing o'er the piteous sight , The silent victor stands ; His beaver did he not unclasp , Mark'd not the shouts , felt not the grasp Of gratulating ...
... o'er ! Richard of Musgrave breathes no more . XXIV . As if exhausted in the fight , Or musing o'er the piteous sight , The silent victor stands ; His beaver did he not unclasp , Mark'd not the shouts , felt not the grasp Of gratulating ...
Página 40
... O'er sprites in planetary hour : Yet scarce I praise their venturous part , Who tamper with such dangerous art . But ... O'er capon , heron - shew , and crane , And princely peacock's gilded train , And o'er the boar - head , garnish'd ...
... O'er sprites in planetary hour : Yet scarce I praise their venturous part , Who tamper with such dangerous art . But ... O'er capon , heron - shew , and crane , And princely peacock's gilded train , And o'er the boar - head , garnish'd ...
Términos y frases comunes
ancient arms band bard battle battle of Methven beneath blood blood-hound bold Border bower Branksome Branksome Hall brave breast brow Bruce Buccleuch called castle chief chieftain clan courser dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Ettrick Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fight fire gallant grey hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland hill horse hound Isles James John King knight lady Ladye land Liddesdale light Loch Katrine Lord Lorn loud maid mark'd Marmion minstrel morning Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham NOTE o'er pass'd pride Risingham rock Rokeby round rude Saint Scotland Scott Scottish seem'd slain song sought sound spear steed stone stood sword tale tell thee thine Thomas the Rhymer thou tide tower turn'd Twas wake warrior wave ween wild wind
Pasajes populares
Página 138 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Página 139 - 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?
Página 45 - 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 ? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll ; When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ! Oh ! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away ! HUSHED is the harp— the Minstrel...
Página 37 - 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 ? 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,...
Página 138 - 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.
Página 664 - Springlets in the dawn are steaming, 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...
Página 37 - 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...
Página 198 - Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking : Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting-fields no more ; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.