The Works of Walter Scott, Esq: Rokley; a poemLongman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, William Miller and John Murray, London; and for A. Constable and Company and John Ballantyne and Company Edinburgh, 1813 |
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... as a guilty dream , When Conscience , with remorse and fear , Goads sleeping Fancy's wild career . Her light seems now the blush of shame , Seems now fierce anger's darker flame , Shifting that shade , to come and go , Like.
... as a guilty dream , When Conscience , with remorse and fear , Goads sleeping Fancy's wild career . Her light seems now the blush of shame , Seems now fierce anger's darker flame , Shifting that shade , to come and go , Like.
Сторінка 15
... Flourish'd the trumpets fierce , and now Fired was each eye , and flush'd each brow ; On either side loud clamours ring , " God and the Cause ! -God and the King ! " Right English all , they rush'd to blows , With CANTO I. 15 ROKEB Y.
... Flourish'd the trumpets fierce , and now Fired was each eye , and flush'd each brow ; On either side loud clamours ring , " God and the Cause ! -God and the King ! " Right English all , they rush'd to blows , With CANTO I. 15 ROKEB Y.
Сторінка 16
... fierce zealots fought and bled , For king or state , as humour led ; Some for a dream of public good , Some for church - tippet , gown , and hood , Draining their veins , in death to claim A patriot's or a martyr's name.- Led Bertram ...
... fierce zealots fought and bled , For king or state , as humour led ; Some for a dream of public good , Some for church - tippet , gown , and hood , Draining their veins , in death to claim A patriot's or a martyr's name.- Led Bertram ...
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... Fierce Rupert thunder'd on our flank . ' Twas then , midst tumult , smoke , and strife , Where each man fought for death or life , ' Twas then I fired my petronel , And Mortham , steed and rider , fell . One dying look he upward cast ...
... Fierce Rupert thunder'd on our flank . ' Twas then , midst tumult , smoke , and strife , Where each man fought for death or life , ' Twas then I fired my petronel , And Mortham , steed and rider , fell . One dying look he upward cast ...
Сторінка 27
... " - - XX . Not then by Wycliffe might be shown , How his pride startled at the tone In which his complice , fierce and free , Asserted guilt's equality . In smoothest terms his speech he wove , Of endless CANTO I. 27 ROKEB Y.
... " - - XX . Not then by Wycliffe might be shown , How his pride startled at the tone In which his complice , fierce and free , Asserted guilt's equality . In smoothest terms his speech he wove , Of endless CANTO I. 27 ROKEB Y.
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Allen-a-Dale arms bade band Barnard Barnard Castle battle beneath Bertram blood bold brand brave breast Brignal brow CANTO castle cheek cliff command comrades dæmon dale dark death Denzil dread Earl Earl of Newcastle Eglistone English Erin's fair fear fell fierce fight fire flame gallant gave glade glance Greta grey hall of Cynddylan hand harp hast hath hear heard heart heaven heir horse hour Irish king knew Lond look Lord loud Lunedale maid mantle Matilda minstrel Mortham ne'er nigh night Northumberland Note o'er O'Neale Oswald pale press'd pride Ralph Rokeby Risingham river Greta Rokeby's Scottish highlanders seem'd shew side Sir Thomas Fairfax sire smile song sought soul sound Stanmore steed stern stood sword tale Tanist Tanistry Tees tell thee thine thou tower turn'd Twas twine wild Wilfrid wont wood Wycliffe Wycliffe's Yafforth Young Redmond youth
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Сторінка 128 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green. — No more of me you knew, My love ! No more of me you knew. ' This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain ; But she shall bloom in winter snow Ere we two meet again.
Сторінка 113 - I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear; But when the beetle sounds his hum My comrades take the spear.
Сторінка 114 - I'm with my comrades met, Beneath the greenwood bough, What once we were we all forget, Nor think what we are now. Chorus "Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen.
Сторінка 130 - Allen-a-Dale. The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side. The mere for his net, and the land for his game, The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame ; Yet the fish of the lake, and the...
Сторінка 201 - Let dimpled mirth his temples twine With tendrils of the laughing vine; The manly oak, the pensive yew, To patriot and to sage be due; The myrtle bough bids lovers live But that Matilda will not give; Then, lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree!
Сторінка 149 - The tear, down Childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dew-drop on the rose ; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Сторінка 130 - He had laughed on the lass with his bonny black eye, And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale, And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale ! " Thou seest that, whether sad or gay, Love mingles ever in his lay.
Сторінка 181 - The sultry summer day is done. The western hills have hid the sun, But mountain peak and village spire Retain reflection of his fire.
Сторінка 111 - ... wouldst wend with me. To leave both tower and town, Thou first must guess what life lead we, That dwell by dale and down. And if thou canst that riddle read, As read full well you may, Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed, As blithe as Queen of May.
Сторінка 129 - XXX. Song. ALLEN-A-DALE. Allen-a-Dale has no fagot for burning, Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turning. Allen-a-Dale has no fleece for the spinning, Yet Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winning. Come, read me my riddle ! come, hearken my tale ! And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side. The mere for his net and the land for his game, The chase for the wild and the park for the tame : Yet the fish of the lake...