Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario
No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Abbey Abbot admired adorned ancient appears Arthur's Seat bagpipe ballads beautiful burgh Burns called Calton Hill castle character Charles Nodier charm Coleridge colours composed costume court Cowper Crabbe depicted Edinburgh Edinburgh Review elegant England English enthusiasm exhibit expression France French genius George IV grace Guy Mannering Heart of Midlothian hero Highland Hogg Holyrood Holyrood Abbey honour idea imagination imparts inspired James Hogg Kennaquhair Kilmeny King Lady Scott Lake land language less LETTER literary Lord Byron manners Melrose Melrose Abbey Monastery monks Moore mountains muse natural never noble Nodier passed poem poet poetical poetry political portrait possess remarkable rendered Roxburghshire ruins satire scene Scotch Scotland Shepherd shew Sir W. S. Sir Walter Scott smile song Southey style sublime talent theatre tion town Tweed verses whig worthy write young
Página 110 - She hold the gorgeous east in fee; And was the safeguard of the west: the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. She was a maiden City, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea. And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final day: Men are...
Página 62 - Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world ; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; To hear the roar she sends through all her gates At a safe distance, where the dying sound Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear.
Página 450 - ... clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; . But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless Maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade, By love's simplicity betray'd And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Página 64 - THAT those lips had language! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine, — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child; chase all thy fears away!
Página 107 - Accordingly, such a language, arising out of repeated experience and regular feelings, is a more permanent and a far more philosophical language than that which is frequently substituted for it by poets...
Página 450 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Página 83 - Where the thin harvest waves its wither'd ears ; Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land and rob the blighted rye : There Thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war; There Poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil, There the blue Bugloss paints the sterile soil ; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy Mallow waves her silky leaf; O'er the young shoot the Charlock throws a shade, And clasping Tares cling round the sickly blade ; With...
Página 202 - His pomp, his pride, his skill; And arts that made fire, flood, and earth The vassals of his will? Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, Thou dim, discrowned king of day; For all those trophied arts And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Healed not a passion or a pang Entailed on human hearts.
Página 135 - How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven : In full-orbed glory yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths; Beneath her steady ray The desert circle spreads, Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. How beautiful is night!
Página 112 - And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks, before the LORD ; but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake ; but the LORD was not in the earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.