The lay of the last minstrel, a poem. With Ballads and lyrical pieces |
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Сторінка 20
... blood - hound baying ; They watch , to hear the war - horn braying ; To see St George's red cross streaming , To see the midnight beacon gleaming ; They watch , against Southern force and guile , Lest Scroop , or Howard , or Percy's ...
... blood - hound baying ; They watch , to hear the war - horn braying ; To see St George's red cross streaming , To see the midnight beacon gleaming ; They watch , against Southern force and guile , Lest Scroop , or Howard , or Percy's ...
Сторінка 30
... blood - hounds ; In Eske , or Liddel , fords were none , But he would ride them , one by one ; Alike to him was time or tide , December's snow , or July's pride ; Alike to him was tide or time , Moonless midnight , or matin prime ...
... blood - hounds ; In Eske , or Liddel , fords were none , But he would ride them , one by one ; Alike to him was time or tide , December's snow , or July's pride ; Alike to him was tide or time , Moonless midnight , or matin prime ...
Сторінка 37
... blood dear Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear . XXXI . In bitter mood he spurred fast , And soon the hated heath was past ; And far beneath , in lustre wan , Old Melros ' rose , and fair Tweed ran : Like some tall rock , with lichens ...
... blood dear Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear . XXXI . In bitter mood he spurred fast , And soon the hated heath was past ; And far beneath , in lustre wan , Old Melros ' rose , and fair Tweed ran : Like some tall rock , with lichens ...
Сторінка 61
... does she pat the shaggy blood - hound , As he rouses him up from his lair ; And , though she passes the postern alone , Why is not the watchman's bugle blown ? XXVII . The ladye steps in doubt and dread , CANTO II . 61 THE LAST MINSTREL .
... does she pat the shaggy blood - hound , As he rouses him up from his lair ; And , though she passes the postern alone , Why is not the watchman's bugle blown ? XXVII . The ladye steps in doubt and dread , CANTO II . 61 THE LAST MINSTREL .
Сторінка 62
... blood - hound , Lest his voice should waken the castle round ; The watchman's bugle is not blown , For he was her foster - father's son ; And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light , To meet Baron Henry , her own true knight ...
... blood - hound , Lest his voice should waken the castle round ; The watchman's bugle is not blown , For he was her foster - father's son ; And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light , To meet Baron Henry , her own true knight ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
ancient arms band bard Baron Beattisons beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chief clan courser crest cross Cumberland Dame dead Douglas dread Duke Earl Earl of Angus Eildon Hills English Eskdale Ettricke Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle Fawdon fight fire gallant hall hand harp heard highnes hill horse Howard James Jedburgh king Kirkwall knight Ladye lances lands LAST MINSTREL Liddesdale Lord Dacre loud Melrose Melrose Abbey Michael Scott MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble Note o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scotland Scots Scottish Scottish Border shew shulde Sir William slain song spear St Clair steed stone stood sun shines fair sword Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower Twas tyme Virgilius warden warriors ween wild William of Deloraine word wound
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Сторінка 206 - That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll, When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ! O, on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away!
Сторінка 175 - 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...
Сторінка 19 - Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright, Neither by day, nor yet by night...
Сторінка 43 - IF thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moon-light ; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
Сторінка 196 - O listen, listen, ladies gay ! No haughty feat of arms I tell ; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. — " Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew ! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay ! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. " The blackening wave is edged with white : To inch and rock the sea-mews fly ; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forbode that wreck is nigh.
Сторінка 14 - And, would the noble Duchess deign To listen to an old man's strain, Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak, He thought even yet, the sooth to speak, That, if she loved the harp to hear, He could make music to her ear.
Сторінка 15 - Where she with all her ladies sate, Perchance he wished his boon denied : For, when to tune his harp he tried, His trembling hand had lost the ease Which marks security to please...
Сторінка 176 - Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires ! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand ! Still, as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill.
Сторінка 11 - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy. Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he. Who sung of Border chivalry: For, welladay! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead; And he, neglected and oppressed, Wished to be with them, and at rest.
Сторінка 51 - In these far climes, it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ; A wizard of such dreaded fame, That when, in Salamanca's cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame...