The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott |
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Página 112
... If , still misspent , Thine hours to poetry are lent , Go , and to tame thy wandering course , Quaff from the fountain at the source ; tomb Immortal laurels ever bloom : Instructive of the feebler 112 Marmion . Canto Sixth.
... If , still misspent , Thine hours to poetry are lent , Go , and to tame thy wandering course , Quaff from the fountain at the source ; tomb Immortal laurels ever bloom : Instructive of the feebler 112 Marmion . Canto Sixth.
Página 113
... thine to try , And , tried in vain , ' twas thine to die . Ill had it seem'd thy silver hair The last , the bitterest pang to share , For princedoms reft , and scutcheons riven , And birthrights to usurpers given ; tomb . ' Or of the ...
... thine to try , And , tried in vain , ' twas thine to die . Ill had it seem'd thy silver hair The last , the bitterest pang to share , For princedoms reft , and scutcheons riven , And birthrights to usurpers given ; tomb . ' Or of the ...
Página 121
... thine elfin foe to see , In guise of thy worst enemy : Couch then thy lance , and spur thy steed- Upon him ! and Saint George to speed ! If he go down , thou soon shalt know Whate'er these airy sprites can show ; If thy heart fail thee ...
... thine elfin foe to see , In guise of thy worst enemy : Couch then thy lance , and spur thy steed- Upon him ! and Saint George to speed ! If he go down , thou soon shalt know Whate'er these airy sprites can show ; If thy heart fail thee ...
Página 125
... thine , When thou of late wert doom'd to twine , Just when thy bridal hour was by , The cypress with the myrtle tie . Just on thy bride her Sire had smil'd , And bless'd the union of his child , When love must change its joyous cheer ...
... thine , When thou of late wert doom'd to twine , Just when thy bridal hour was by , The cypress with the myrtle tie . Just on thy bride her Sire had smil'd , And bless'd the union of his child , When love must change its joyous cheer ...
Página 147
... thine aid , By every step that thou hast trod To holy shrine and grotto dim ; By every martyr's tortur'd limb , By angel , saint , and seraphim , And by the Church of God ! For mark - When Wilton was be- tray'd , And with his squire ...
... thine aid , By every step that thou hast trod To holy shrine and grotto dim ; By every martyr's tortur'd limb , By angel , saint , and seraphim , And by the Church of God ! For mark - When Wilton was be- tray'd , And with his squire ...
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.