The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With life. 8 engr. on steel |
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الصفحة xv
... horses and dogs was no- ticed by all his guests . He was a bold rider himself , and would lead his less venturous associates through perils to which they were little accustomed . Of his dogs , the writer last quoted gives the following ...
... horses and dogs was no- ticed by all his guests . He was a bold rider himself , and would lead his less venturous associates through perils to which they were little accustomed . Of his dogs , the writer last quoted gives the following ...
الصفحة xx
... Light Dragoons 450 Notes Hellvellyn The Dying Bard The Norman Horse - shoe The Maid of Toro 517 451 452 453 454 The Wild Huntsman The Fire - King . Frederick and Alice . 454 459 462 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL : A Poem . XX CONTENTS .
... Light Dragoons 450 Notes Hellvellyn The Dying Bard The Norman Horse - shoe The Maid of Toro 517 451 452 453 454 The Wild Huntsman The Fire - King . Frederick and Alice . 454 459 462 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL : A Poem . XX CONTENTS .
الصفحة 12
... horse sunk low , And the water broke o'er the saddle - bow ; Above the foaming tide , I ween , Scarce half the charger's neck was seen ; For he was barded from counter to tail , And the rider was armed complete in mail ; Never heavier ...
... horse sunk low , And the water broke o'er the saddle - bow ; Above the foaming tide , I ween , Scarce half the charger's neck was seen ; For he was barded from counter to tail , And the rider was armed complete in mail ; Never heavier ...
الصفحة 22
... horses prance , their lances gleam . They came to St Mary's lake ere day ; But the chapel was void , and the Baron away . They burn'd the chapel for very rage , And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin - Page . XXXIV . And now , in ...
... horses prance , their lances gleam . They came to St Mary's lake ere day ; But the chapel was void , and the Baron away . They burn'd the chapel for very rage , And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin - Page . XXXIV . And now , in ...
الصفحة 24
... horse's tail , And his plumes went scattering on the gale ; The tough ash spear , so stout and true , Into a thousand flinders flew . But Cranstoun's lance , of more avail , Pierced through , like silk , the Borderer's mail ; Through ...
... horse's tail , And his plumes went scattering on the gale ; The tough ash spear , so stout and true , Into a thousand flinders flew . But Cranstoun's lance , of more avail , Pierced through , like silk , the Borderer's mail ; Through ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
ancient arms band battle bear beneath Bertram blood bold brand brave breast brow called castle cause chase chief close cross dark dead death deep Douglas dread Earl English fair fear fell field fight fire gave give glance green grey hall hand harp head hear heard heart heaven held hill hold holy horse hour James King knew knight lady land leave light living look Lord lost loud maid Marmion meet morning Mortham mountain ne'er never noble o'er once pass pride rest round Saint scarce Scottish seem'd seen side soon soul sound spear steed stood strain strange stream sword tale tell thee thou thought tide Till took tower true Twas voice wave wild wind wood youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 141 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume ; And the bridemaidens whispered, '"Twere better, by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar...
الصفحة 54 - 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 concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
الصفحة 47 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind. In body and in soul can bind.
الصفحة 14 - 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...
الصفحة 209 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
الصفحة 140 - River where ford there was none : But ere he alighted at Netherby gate The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
الصفحة 179 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!
الصفحة 65 - 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...
الصفحة 75 - DAY set on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, And Cheviot's mountains lone : The battled towers, the donjon keep, The loophole grates, where captives weep, The flanking walls that round it sweep, In yellow lustre shone.
الصفحة 349 - 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.