Wilson's Tales of the Borders, and of Scotland. Revised by A. Leighton. New ed, Томи 1 – 2;Том 110 |
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Wilson's Tales of the Borders, and of Scotland. Revised by A. Leighton. New Ed John MacKay Wilson Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2015 |
Wilson's Tales of the Borders, and of Scotland. Revised by A. Leighton. New Ed John MacKay Wilson Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2015 |
Wilson's Tales of the Borders, and of Scotland. Revised by A. Leighton. New Ed John MacKay Wilson Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2019 |
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Adam Bell Alice arms auld bairn bannock baron beauty Brechin brother canna captain Cellardykes Christie's Clennel companion countenance countess Covenanter cried dark daugh daughter dear death dinna Donald door earl Elliot Elspeth exclaimed eyes face fair father fear feelings Flowerdew frae hand Hayston head heard heart hinny hour husband Innerkepple Jedburgh Jessy Johnny Armstrong Johnny's Kate Katherine Kilrenny knew lady laird lassie laugh Liddesdale Lindsay live Lockerby looked Lord lurdon mair Margaret maun merchant mind mother nature never night Otterstone passed Peter Elliot poet poor puir rejoined replied returned Rothbury round scene Scotland Scott seat seemed Sir Gideon smile spirit stood stranger tears tell things Thomas Thomas Hardie thought Tollishill Traquair turned vessel voice weel Whitecraigs wife Willie Willie Wilson wine Wistonbury woman words young
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 66 - Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Сторінка 3 - ... him to be a walking partition between the two kingdoms, a living representation of the Union ; for in one word he pronounced the letter r with the broad, masculine sound of the North Briton, and in the next with the liquid burr of the Northumbrians. Peter, or, if you prefer it, Peter Elliot, Esquire, of Marchlaw, in the counties of Northumberland and Roxburgh, was for many years the best runner, leaper, and wrestler, between Wooler and Jedburgh. Whirled from his hand the ponderous bullet whizzed...
Сторінка 111 - Action is momentary, The motion of a muscle this way or that; Suffering is long, obscure, and infinite!
Сторінка 171 - A few short years of evil past, We reach the happy shore, Where death-divided friends at last Shall meet, to part no more.
Сторінка 95 - The stream of time, which is continually washing the dissoluble fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of Shakespeare.
Сторінка 76 - It's hardly in a body's pow'r, To keep, at times, frae being sour, To see how things are shar'd ; How best o...
Сторінка 137 - ... he immediately fell into a profound sleep that extended over twelve mortal hours. At the end of this period, however, Johnny awoke ; but it was not by any means of his own accord, for he was awakened by a variety of stimulants, or rousers, if we may be allowed to coin a word for the occasion, all operating at once. These were, a tremendous uproar on the deck, a fearful rolling of the vessel, the roaring of wind, and the splashing, dashing, and gurling of waves ; and, to crown all, a feeling of...
Сторінка 83 - His is that language of the heart, In which the answering heart would speak, Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start, Or the smile light the cheek ; And his that music, to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time, In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime.
Сторінка 143 - While thus engaged, four different persons, all at once, and as if they had acted by concert, started each from behind a tree, and approached Donald from four different points, with the purpose, evidently, of distracting his attention. At once perceiving their intention, and not doubting that their purposes were hostile, the intrepid Celt, to prevent himself being surrounded, hastily retreated to a wall which formed part of the structure of the fountain on which he had been gazing, and, placing his...
Сторінка 90 - ... career Sit half sae saft." Elegy on John Hogg. We returned to town; and, after threading a few of the narrower lanes, entered by a low door into a long dark room, dimly lighted by a fire. A tall thin woman was employed in skinning a bundle of dried fish at a table in a corner. "Where's the guidman, Kate?" said my companion, changing the sweet pure English in which he had hitherto spoken for his mother tongue. " John's ben in the spence," replied the woman. " Little Andrew, the wratch, has been...