The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. With life. 8 engr. on steel |
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الصفحة 3
... tower Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye- No humbler resting - place was nigh ; With hesitating step at last , The embattled portal arch he pass'd , Whose ponderous grate and massy bar Had oft ...
... tower Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye- No humbler resting - place was nigh ; With hesitating step at last , The embattled portal arch he pass'd , Whose ponderous grate and massy bar Had oft ...
الصفحة 6
... tower , And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower ; Her bower that was guarded by word and by spell , Deadly to hear , and deadly to tell- Jesu Maria , shield us well ! No living wight , save the Ladye alone , Had dared to cross the ...
... tower , And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower ; Her bower that was guarded by word and by spell , Deadly to hear , and deadly to tell- Jesu Maria , shield us well ! No living wight , save the Ladye alone , Had dared to cross the ...
الصفحة 10
... tower , Till pride be quell'd , and love be free . " XVIII . The unearthly voices ceast , And the heavy sound was still ; It died on the river's breast , It died on the side of the hill . But round Lord David's tower The sound still ...
... tower , Till pride be quell'd , and love be free . " XVIII . The unearthly voices ceast , And the heavy sound was still ; It died on the river's breast , It died on the side of the hill . But round Lord David's tower The sound still ...
الصفحة 11
... Hawick twinkled many a light ; Behind him soon they set in night ; And soon he spurr'd his courser keen Beneath the tower of Hazeldean . XXVI . The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ; -- CANTO I. 11 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL .
... Hawick twinkled many a light ; Behind him soon they set in night ; And soon he spurr'd his courser keen Beneath the tower of Hazeldean . XXVI . The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ; -- CANTO I. 11 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL .
الصفحة 12
... tower behind . He turn'd him now from Teviotside , And , guided by the tinkling rill , Northward the dark ascent did ride , And gain'd the moor at Horsliehill ; Broad on the left before him lay , For many a mile , the Roman way . XXVII ...
... tower behind . He turn'd him now from Teviotside , And , guided by the tinkling rill , Northward the dark ascent did ride , And gain'd the moor at Horsliehill ; Broad on the left before him lay , For many a mile , the Roman way . XXVII ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
ancient arms bade band Baron battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bower brand brave breast Brignall brow castle chase clan courser dark deep Deloraine Denzil Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Ettrick Forest fair fear fell fight fire gallant glance Græme grey Guenever hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven holy horse hound King knight lady land light Loch Katrine lonely Lord Marmion loud maid mark'd Matilda minstrel morning Mortham mountain ne'er noble o'er pale pass'd pride proud Redmond Risingham Roderick Rokeby Rokeby's round rung Saint scarce Scotland Scottish seem'd shade show'd Sir Launcelot sire smiled song sought soul sound spear steed stern stood stream sword tale Tamworth tell thee thine Thomas Gray THOMAS THE RHYMER thou tide tower turn'd Twas voice wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid 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.