Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart, Том 1

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Robert Cadell, Edinburgh. John Murray and Whittaker and Company, London., 1837 - 1365 стор.

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Сторінка 138 - There was a strong expression of sense and shrewdness in all his lineaments ; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. It was large, and of a dark cast, which glowed (I say literally glowed) when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time.
Сторінка 50 - Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a; A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Сторінка 136 - Ferguson's, where there were several gentlemen of literary reputation, among whom I remember the celebrated Mr. Dugald Stewart. Of course, we youngsters sat silent, looked and listened.
Сторінка 135 - THE dews of summer night did fall, The moon (sweet Regent of the sky!) Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall And many an oak that grew thereby.
Сторінка 18 - The local information, which I conceive had some share in forming my future taste and pursuits, I derived from the old songs and tales which then formed the amusement of a retired country family.
Сторінка 87 - I ever saw. He was reading a poem to his mother when I went in. I made him read on; it was the description of a shipwreck. His passion rose with the storm. He lifted his eyes and hands. ' There's the mast gone,' says he; ' crash it goes !—they will all perish I' After his agitation, he turns to me. ' That is too melancholy,' says he; 'I had better read you something more amusing.
Сторінка 35 - These studies were totally unregulated and undirected. My tutor thought it almost a sin to open a profane play or poem; and my mother, besides that she might be in some degree trammelled by the religious scruples which he suggested, had no longer the opportunity to .hear me read poetry as formerly.
Сторінка 81 - And well the lonely infant knew Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And honeysuckle loved to crawl Up the low crag and ruined wall. I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade The sun in all its round surveyed; And still I thought that shattered tower The mightiest work of human power...
Сторінка 275 - O, WHO rides by night thro' the woodland so wild ? It is the fond father embracing his child; And close the boy nestles within his loved arm, To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm. 'O father, see yonder! see yonder!' he says ; ' My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?' ' O, 'tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud.' ' No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.
Сторінка 198 - ... and, moreover, with considerable libations of whisky-punch, manufactured in a certain wooden vessel, resembling a very small milkpail, which he called ' Wisdom,' because it ' made ' only a few spoonfuls of spirits, — though he had the art of replenishing it so adroitly, that it had been celebrated for fifty years as more fatal to sobriety than any bowl in the parish. Having done due honour to ' Wisdom,' they again mounted, and proceeded over moss and moor to some other equally hospitable master...

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