Scottish Rivers

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Edmonston and Douglas, 1874 - 328 páginas
 

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Página 18 - The gallant Frith the eye might note, Whose islands on its bosom float, Like emeralds chased in gold. Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent ; As if to give his rapture vent, The spur he to his charger lent, And raised his bridle-hand, And, making demi-volte in air, Cried, " Where's the coward that would not dare " To fight for such a land !" The Lindesay smiled his joy to see ; Nor Marmion's frown repress'd his glee.
Página 255 - Of all the palaces so fair, Built for the royal dwelling In Scotland, far beyond compare Linlithgow is excelling; And in its park, in jovial June, How sweet the merry linnet's tune, How blithe the blackbird's lay! The wild buck bells from ferny brake, The coot dives merry on the lake, The saddest heart might pleasure take To see all nature gay.
Página 209 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end, Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Página 129 - Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fyne ; At ilka tett of her horse's mane, Hung fifty siller bells and nine. True Thomas, he...
Página 86 - By lone St. Mary's silent lake; Thou know'st it well — nor fen nor sedge Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge; Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At once upon the level brink; And just a trace of silver sand Marks where the water meets the land. Far in the mirror, bright and blue Each hill's huge outline you may view; Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare, Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake is there, Save where, of land, yon slender line Bears thwart the lake the scatter'd pine.
Página 156 - Gar warn the water, braid and wide, Gar warn it sune and hastilie ! They that winna ride for Telfer's kye, Let them never look in the face o...
Página 131 - For a' the blude that's shed on earth Rins through the springs o' that countrie. Syne they came on to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple frae a tree — * ' Take this for thy wages, true Thomas ; It will give thee the tongue that can never lie.' 'My tongue is mine ain,' true Thomas said; 'A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
Página 189 - Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow whispering gales. THY bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
Página 149 - Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide The glaring bale-fires blaze no more ; No longer steel-clad warriors ride Along thy wild and willow'd shore ; Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill, All, all is peaceful, all is still, As if thy waves, since Time was born. Since first they roll'd upon the Tweed, Had only heard the shepherd's reed, Nor started at the bugle-horn.
Página 4 - My Indian Journal, Containing descriptions of the principal Field Sports of India, with Notes on the Natural History and Habits of the Wild Animals of the Country. By COLONEL WALTER CAMPBELL, author of 'The Old Forest Ranger.

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