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The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. with Memoir of the Author
Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2015
ancient arms band battle bear beneath blood bold bore brand brave breast bright brow Bruce called castle chief close cross dark death deep Douglas dread drew fair fear fell field fight fire gave give glance grace green grey hall hand hath head hear heard heart heaven held hill hold holy hour King knew knight lady land light living look Lord loud maid mark Marmion meet minstrel morning mountain ne'er never noble o'er once pass pride rest rock rose round Saint scarce scene Scottish seemed seen shore side soon sought soul sound spear spoke steed stood strange stream sword tale tell thee thine thou thought tide Till tower train true turned Twas voice wake warrior wave wild wind wood youth
Сторінка 154 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broad-sword he weapon 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.
Сторінка 56 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, 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...
Сторінка 154 - One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
Сторінка 154 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide, And now I am 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.
Сторінка 12 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower ; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory...
Сторінка 240 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Сторінка 181 - England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your...
Сторінка 212 - 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.
Сторінка 194 - While many a broken band Disordered through her currents dash, To gain the Scottish land ; To town and tower, to down and dale, To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, And raise the universal wail. Tradition, legend, tune, and song Shall many an age that wail prolong ; Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife and carnage drear Of Flodden's fatal field. Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear And broken was her shield ! xxxv.