The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott |
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Página 36
... wild surprise , Mingled with seeming terror , rise Among the Scottish bands ; And all , amid the throng'd array , In panic haste gave open way To a half - naked ghastly man Who downward from the castle ran : He cross'd the barriers at a ...
... wild surprise , Mingled with seeming terror , rise Among the Scottish bands ; And all , amid the throng'd array , In panic haste gave open way To a half - naked ghastly man Who downward from the castle ran : He cross'd the barriers at a ...
Página 44
... wild Had rapture for the lonely child . XXII . And much of wild and wonderful In these rude isles might fancy cull ; For thither came , in times afar , Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war , The Norsemen , train'd to spoil and blood ...
... wild Had rapture for the lonely child . XXII . And much of wild and wonderful In these rude isles might fancy cull ; For thither came , in times afar , Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war , The Norsemen , train'd to spoil and blood ...
Página 89
... wild cascade , And , foaming brown with doubled speed , Ilurries its waters to the Tweed . No longer Autumn's glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed ; No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam ; Away ...
... wild cascade , And , foaming brown with doubled speed , Ilurries its waters to the Tweed . No longer Autumn's glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed ; No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam ; Away ...
Página 103
... wild - swans mount the gale , Spread wide through mist their snowy sail , And ever stoop again to lave Their bosoms on the surging wave : Then , when against the driving hail No longer might my plaid avail , Back to my lonely home ...
... wild - swans mount the gale , Spread wide through mist their snowy sail , And ever stoop again to lave Their bosoms on the surging wave : Then , when against the driving hail No longer might my plaid avail , Back to my lonely home ...
Página 112
... wild sigh through Autumn trees : Then , wild as cloud , or stream , or gale , Flow on , flow unconfin'd , my Tale ! Need I to thee , dear Erskine , tell I love the license all too well , In sounds now lowly , and now strong , To raise ...
... wild sigh through Autumn trees : Then , wild as cloud , or stream , or gale , Flow on , flow unconfin'd , my Tale ! Need I to thee , dear Erskine , tell I love the license all too well , In sounds now lowly , and now strong , To raise ...
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.