The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott |
من داخل الكتاب
النتائج 1-5 من 100
الصفحة 18
... English yeoman good , And born in Lancashire . Well could he hit a fallow - deer Five hundred feet him fro ; For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ; And , if thou dost not set me free , False Southron , thou shalt dearly rue ! For Walter ...
... English yeoman good , And born in Lancashire . Well could he hit a fallow - deer Five hundred feet him fro ; For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ; And , if thou dost not set me free , False Southron , thou shalt dearly rue ! For Walter ...
الصفحة 26
... English eye , intent on the Border . ' XVIII . Behind the English bill and bow , The mercenaries , firm and slow , Moved on to fight , in dark array , bent ; So near they were , that they might know The straining harsh of each cross ...
... English eye , intent on the Border . ' XVIII . Behind the English bill and bow , The mercenaries , firm and slow , Moved on to fight , in dark array , bent ; So near they were , that they might know The straining harsh of each cross ...
الصفحة 28
... English blood swell'd Ancram's What make you here , from aid so far , ' And let them come ! ' fierce Dacre His. And this fair boy , to London led , Shall good King Edward's page be bred . ' XXV . He ceased - and loud the boy did cry ...
... English blood swell'd Ancram's What make you here , from aid so far , ' And let them come ! ' fierce Dacre His. And this fair boy , to London led , Shall good King Edward's page be bred . ' XXV . He ceased - and loud the boy did cry ...
الصفحة 35
... English knight led forth to view ; Scarce rued the boy his present plight , So much he long'd to see the fight . Within the lists , in knightly pride , High Home and haughty Dacre ride ; Their leading staffs of steel they wield As ...
... English knight led forth to view ; Scarce rued the boy his present plight , So much he long'd to see the fight . Within the lists , in knightly pride , High Home and haughty Dacre ride ; Their leading staffs of steel they wield As ...
الصفحة 41
... English side , Red Roland Forster loudly cried , ' A deep carouse to yon fair bride ! ' At every pledge , from vat and pail , Foam'd forth in floods the nut - brown ale , While shout the riders every one ; Such day of mirth ne'er cheer ...
... English side , Red Roland Forster loudly cried , ' A deep carouse to yon fair bride ! ' At every pledge , from vat and pail , Foam'd forth in floods the nut - brown ale , While shout the riders every one ; Such day of mirth ne'er cheer ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
ancient arms band bard battle battle of Methven beneath blood blood-hound bold Border bower Branksome Branksome Hall brave breast brow Bruce Buccleuch called castle chief chieftain clan courser dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Ettrick Forest fair falchion fame fear fell fight fire gallant grey hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland hill horse hound Isles James John King knight lady Ladye land Liddesdale light Loch Katrine Lord Lorn loud maid mark'd Marmion minstrel morning Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham NOTE o'er pass'd pride Risingham rock Rokeby round rude Saint Scotland Scott Scottish seem'd slain song sought sound spear steed stone stood sword tale tell thee thine Thomas the Rhymer thou tide tower turn'd Twas wake warrior wave ween wild wind
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 138 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapons 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.
الصفحة 139 - mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see, So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
الصفحة 45 - 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 ! Oh ! 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 ! HUSHED is the harp— the Minstrel...
الصفحة 37 - 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; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept,...
الصفحة 138 - I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied : — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now am I 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.
الصفحة 664 - Springlets in the dawn are steaming, Diamonds on the brake are gleaming, And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green ; Now we come to chant our lay Waken, lords and ladies gay...
الصفحة 37 - 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...
الصفحة 198 - 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.